


The Dirty & Insatiable Ian Gallagher

by Writergirl2007



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: AU, Ass Play, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Crazy In Love, Date Night, Dirt/Sweat kink, Dirty Talk, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Explicit Language, Ginger Love, Happy Ending, Ian sings, Ian the construction worker, Ian's the boss, Insecure Mickey, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, M/M, PDA, POV Mickey Milkovich, Past underage Ian, Past/Present, Power Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Recreational Drug Use, Smut and Fluff, Top Ian Gallagher, heavy smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-12-09 08:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11665254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writergirl2007/pseuds/Writergirl2007
Summary: An AU where Ian is a construction worker and lives with Mickey. It follows the ups and downs of present life and offers a glimpse into their past.In present time, Mickey is happily in love with Gallagher. He's finally free of his overbearing father and has his own house. The Southside is changing and, maybe he is too.In the past, a younger Mickey crushes on Ian and deals with his sexuality. The Milkovich family has deeply rooted secrets and Mickey yearns for a better life.





	1. It's A Good Life

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a one shot and turned into something bigger. It will be centered around Ian's job as a construction worker and most chapters will begin with Mickey reflecting on a specific situation. There is a plot that will develop, but there will be other plots as well. There isn't an exact timeline. I will fluctuate from the past to the present as Mickey explains his feelings. 
> 
> Warning: Rated E for very detailed sex and explicit language. Most of this is just really dirty, and I needed to practice writing smut.
> 
> Gallavich will always get their happy ending with me! Feedback is always welcomed and thank you for reading!

Mickey sat on the couch with his second cup of coffee in his right hand and a cigarette between his lips. It was early as fuck and he impatiently waited for his daily dose of caffeine to kick in. He's been awake for about an hour now. How could he possibly sleep with the freckled ginger hogging the whole bed and the covers too? 

Mickey rubbed his eyes and took in the sight of his disheveled living room. Ian had taken a place in Mickey’s heart and now his house too. There were pieces of Ian everywhere Mickey looked. Ian’s work boots stood by the front door, shoe laces caked in thick mud and god- knows-what. Beside Ian's spot on the couch there were two empty beer bottles and an ashtray full of cigarette butts. 

His laundry room was also a muddy mess. Ian's dirty work shirts and Wrangler jeans littered the white tiled floor, next to the unused dirty clothes hamper. The bedroom door was open and Mickey could hear the muffled snores of his boyfriend, sleeping peacefully inside the darkened room. Dirty piles of underwear and discarded clothes lead the way to their large bed. It was a mixture of his clothes too, because Ian's eager fingers tore both their clothes off every night and threw them carelessly; unconcerned with where they fell. The man hated wearing clothes and preferred sleeping nude. 

Mickey was always disgruntled from this mess of a house, but willingly let it slide. Gallagher was a dirty man, in more ways than one, and he's always been his one and only weakness. Ian could have stomped his muddy boots through the whole house and Mickey would still love him. Hell, Mickey would have probably let him fuck him while wearing those dirty ass boots too; if he asked. The man worked hard and fucked even harder. So what if he was a messy slob?

Ian worked with his hands and muscles renovating and erecting buildings for the town of Canaryville, where they lived. It was a dirty job and Ian usually came home covered in dirt and sweat from a hard day's work. Canaryville was usually referred to simply as The South Side and used to be a little impoverished town that no one heard of or, even talked about. It was a tiny dot on a map of Chicago, but it was their home and Mickey refused to abandon it. 

It started a couple years ago when investors flocked to their little town and put up big money to improve the area. They regarded the South Side and its location as prime real estate and began their building plans. Their contracts and money brought hundreds of jobs to the town and Ian was one of the first men to apply for a spot on the new building crew. He had never worked construction, but was more than willing to learn. Ian was determined to make a better life for himself and for Mickey too. Bit by bit with the help of Ian and his crew of men, the South Side started transforming into a bustling city; alive with new restaurants and apartment buildings. The unemployment rate in Chicago was at an all time low and the crime rate significantly decreased. The property values of every house on their block doubled, almost overnight. 

Mickey’s mind began to change as he regarded his dirty house once more. The dirty boots were a symbol of his strong and hard-working boyfriend. The messy laundry room meant that they both had clean clothes to wear. The empty beer bottles and cigarette butts, meant that Ian felt at home in his house. The dirty bedroom was a sign that their sex life was alive and just as passionate as it's ever been. With Ian's income they were able to pay all their bills on time and keep their refrigerator stocked full of food. Mickey never imagined it could be like this. His life with Ian was fuckin' awesome and this is the happiest he's felt in his twenty-four years of life.

Mickey took the last hit off his smoke and smashed it into the heaping ashtray. The coffee was working it's magic and his eyebrows perked up as a brilliant idea came to him. He got up from the couch and walked toward his bedroom, twisting his toes in the soft carpet. He stood over the spacious bed and eyed the Herculean figure of his sleeping boyfriend; it was a beautiful sight.

The thin sheet covering the bed was tangled between Ian's muscular legs.The tall man was sleeping peacefully on his back and Mickey bit his lip as he looked him over. Ian's fiery red hair was mussed from tossing and turning against the pillows, his mouth hung wide open and his eyelids fluttered softly. His chest was full and tapered towards a lean stomach, where his stacked six pack of abs flexed with each inhale and exhale of breath. His hip bones protruded and his toned skin formed two perfect v cuts, that Mickey longed to kiss. Tuffs of red pubic hair lead the way toward the mans glorious cock tented inside his grey boxers. Little noises escaped his lips and Mickey feared the redhead was in the middle of a nightmare. He soon realized the unholy sounds escaping Ian's lips were not ones from fear but, from pleasure. Mickey whimpered softly, watching as Ian moaned and twisted his legs in the sheets.This man did wicked things to him; made him feel crazy feelings and turned his body into a pile of mush.

Mickey wrapped his tattooed fingers around the sheet and attempted to jerk it free from Ian's heavy legs. This did nothing but twist the sheets further around Ian's knees and Mickey groaned loudly. Ian could sleep through a fucking tornado and he decided to take a different approach as to wake him. He reached out and ghosted the pad of his index finger along the dip in Ian's throat. Ian's adam's apple bobbed from the contact and he let out a soft whimper that made Mickey's hand shake.

Mickey continued skimming soft fingers down Ian's chest; drawing imaginary zig zag patterns against his rib cage. He paid close attention to the tattoo against his lovers ribs, tracing the inked lines slowly. Ian let out another sound of praise and Mickey slid his hand into his blue boxers to stroke his painfully hardened cock. The sight and feel of Ian's hot skin was arousing and made him want to do dirty, naughty, things to this man. He tugged on his cock a few times before returning his hands back to Ian's taunt skin. His fingers traced the deep cuts of Ian's hips and Mickey watched his boyfriend's head thrash against the pillow. He lowered his mouth toward Ian's freckled stomach and ran his slick tongue against the rippled muscles there. The scent of Ian's arousal filled his nose and his dick twitched with excitement.

He continued lapping against the happy trail of red hair that led to the monster that was Ian's cock. Mickey rolled his boxers down slowly, placing wet kisses against his legs. Suddenly a firm hand gripped the back of his head and he chuckled against Ian's inner thigh. Ian's cock always woke up before the rest of him and Mickey darted his blue eyes up innocently toward his groggy boyfriend. Ian's green eyes were looking down at him hungrily, watching Mickey's soft tongue lick against his skin. 

“Good morning?” Ians sleep filled voice was deep and the corners of his mouth quirked up, as he examined the pouty pink lips lingering inches away from his hard cock. 

“Mornin.” Mickey mumbled against his skin.

“You're such a tease.” Ian whined and bucked his hips as Mickey's wet tongue slicked across both of his balls. He threw his head back and hissed when the slippery tongue circled around the base of his swollen cock. 

Mickey was pleased to see Ian quivering underneath him. Ian's cock was thick, the tip of it already glistening with tiny droplets of precum. Excited. Mickey swirled his tongue around the mushroom sized head to collect a bit of Ian's sweet taste into his mouth.

Ian yelped in disappointment when Mickey maneuvered to the top of the bed to lie down next to him. His green eyes were confused, and pupils completely blown out with lust, as he looked Mickey over. He wrapped a shaky hand around his cock and began stroking himself, “Fuck Mick, you're killing me,” Ian gasped and jerked himself faster, “You can't just get me going and stop...That's not fair.” 

“What're you going to do about it, tough guy?” Mickey ask, raising two sarcastic eyebrows and jutting his chin out; daring Ian to make a move. 

Suddenly, Ian's body was on top of him, launching a full on attack. Ian's tongue was deep inside his mouth, moving against Mickey’s with purpose. His hands were all over Mickey; pulling his hair, gripping his hips and pulling at his clothes. He held Mickey tightly and grinded his naked body against him sensually. They broke away gasping for air, both panting warm breath against the others mouth.

“You're insatiable, Gallagher...You ever gonna get enough of me?” Mickey ask, before suctioning his lips onto Ian's throat. 

Ian didn't respond with words, but allowed his actions to speak for him. He pulled Mickey's cut off t-shirt up and over his head with one hand and removed his blue boxers with the other. He grabbed Mikey's broad shoulders and flipped him onto his stomach roughly. He bared his white teeth and sank them into the pale flesh on Mickey’s shoulder fiercely, leaving a deep purple welt behind. He rolled his hips against the round ass beneath him, showing Mickey just how hard and insatiable he was. 

Ian's cock was sandwiched between Mickey's pillowy mounds of flesh as he kissed down the brunettes back lovingly. He widened his tongue and slid it over the two dimples above Mickey's ass before wriggling it slowly between his pale cheeks. He pulled Mickey's hips up, spread his cheeks wide open and let out a embarrassing moan from the sight. He dropped down and nuzzled his face between Mickey's ass cheeks hungrily; lapping his tongue against him at an alarming speed that had Mickey crying out and gripping the side of the bed. 

“Oh...my god.” Mickey gasp, arching his back and rocking against Ian's wet mouth. The man had a skillful tongue and Mickey could come apart just from this feeling alone. His tongue was thick and wet inside him, relentlessly working to stretch him out. “Fuckin get on me already.” Mickey begged, pushing his cock into the bed, desperate for some form of friction. 

“You make me wait,” Ian growled and inserted a wet finger into him slowly, “You're gonna wait now.” He took his time preparing Mickey; fingering his boyfriend untill he was sufficiently stretched and loosened before going any further. He loved the feeling of Mickey’s body stretching around his long fingers. 

Ian grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand and dripped a generous amount between Mickey's cheeks. He stared in wonder as the slippery substance rolled down Mikey's crack, all the while the man shuddered and whimpered beneath him.  
“It's good...fuck...me.” Mickey reached back and slapped his hand against Ian's hip, urging him to get the show on the road. The ass play was nice, but he wanted more.

Ian squirted lube into his palm and slicked up his cock liberally. He spread Mickey’s cheeks and lined himself up against the man's loosened hole. He pushed in slowly, allowing Mickey to adjust to the fullness. They moaned in unison when Ian's full cock bottomed out; deeply seated inside Mickey. 

Ian held himself in place and massaged Mickey's tight back muscles with his hands. He covered every inch of Mickey's body, alternating between soft and rough touches. He pulled Mickey up on his knees and grabbed onto his untouched cock. Mickey bucked underneath him, urging him forward with a bounce of his ass. 

“You feel so good,” Ian gasp, rolling his hips against him, “You ready baby?” He ask, lowering his mouth to lick at Mickey's earlobe.

“Sometime to-fuckin-day.” Mickey tried to sound annoyed, but his voice lacked any malice. 

Ian clasp both hands against Mickey’s shoulders and began slamming into him. He started out slow, but quickly changed to jerky thrusts that slapped their bodies together loudly. 

“Ah..God..yes.” Mickey moaned, as Ian continuously pounded into him. His whole body was shaking and his cock threatened to burst from the assault. With each thrust, Ian hit him exactly where he needed it. The man fucked like a champion. 

Ian took Mickey’s cock in his hand and began stroking it in time with his jackhammering thrusts. Mickeys orgasm was building slowly and he leaned back against Ian's chest to get a better angle.

Ian sucked and bit at Mickey’s neck as they fucked, drawing out an endless slew of moans from his hot mess of a boyfriend, who was now shaking. “Cum for me baby.” Ian whispered against his ear. His words sent shockwaves to Mickey’s cock and he twitched inside Ian's slick palm. A measured thrust against his prostate had Mickey yelling out Ian's name and shooting spurts of hot release against the bed and into his lovers hand. Ian came moments later, spilling his seed deep inside the warmth of Mickey's tight ass. Both men collapsed onto the bed, on a cloud of post coital bliss. 

In this bed nothing else mattered but them. Mickey pulled the sheet over their sated bodies and smiled as Ian pulled him close. He draped his long arm across Mickeys waist and nuzzled his nose against the nook of his neck. “Never..ever..gonna get enough.” Ian promised. 

Moments later Mickey fell asleep in their large comfy bed, with his pale tattooed fingers laced between long freckled ones. They were tucked away from the rest of the world, not a care, or worry in the world. Mickey’s life was fucking awesome.


	2. I'm The Foreman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian gets a promotion at work and takes Mickey out to celebrate.

When Ian came home from work and told him he'd been promoted to Foreman, Mickey was so proud. One of the things he knew for certain in this world was that when Ian Gallagher wanted something, he always got it. 

Ian was practically bouncing with happiness as he recounted the details of his day to Mickey. He's been digging out water lines and laying gravel for a new development a couple towns over for a week straight. The investors wanted them to begin building next week and because of Ian's leadership skills they had the foundation laid today. Ian's boss Tommy was fucking impressed with his work ethic, (maybe there's something else he's impressed with too) and had presented him with the new job title. Mickey thinks Tommy is a bit too fond of Ian, but he's never mentioned it. He's also never mentioned the amount of force he'd use to break Tommy's nose if he ever laid a finger on his man. Ian looked sexy in a wifebeater and Mickey knows he's not the only one who's noticed.

Mickey’s heart feels so full while he watches Ian talk. He's missed his boyfriend but, it was such a pleasure to see Ian excelling in his new career and happy. His determination and love for life was something so different than what Mickey had grown up with. He was like a breath of fresh air; a glimmer of light in a dull and darkened sky, the perfect combination of sweet to his salty.

A good day looked so good on him. He had an oversized smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and displayed rows of perfectly straight white teeth. His sun kissed cheeks were covered in freckles, along with smudges of dirt and grime. He hooked his finger in the rim of his yellow hard hat and turned it around to show Mickey the orange sticker on the back, with his new title ‘Foreman’ written in all capital letters. 

“You get promoted and all they give ya is a new fuckin' hat?” Mickey ask, raising an eyebrow in question.

“That's not all baby. C’mere.” 

Ian wrapped his hand around Mickey’s wrist and quickly lead him through the kitchen and toward the front door. He didn't like being drug around like a little bitch, but Gallagher was excited and he was curious to see what was waiting outside. 

“The fucks the rush man? Better not be a fucking power tool...got enough of that shit in the garage.” He mumbled, trying to keep up with Ian's long legs and quickened pace. Although the image of Ian wielding a power tool did naughty things to him, he hoped it was something better. He almost trips over Ian's boots when the redhead comes to an abrupt stop in front of him. His face bumps into Ian's sweaty shoulder and he groans in frustration. He jerked his wrist and smiled when it was liberated from the death grip of freckled fingers circling it. He shoves Ian's body out of the way and his jaw drops when he sees what was so damn important. Parked in their normally empty driveway, was a shiny and expensive looking black truck. The afternoon sun beat down on the hood of the vehicle making It sparkle before his eyes. It was fucking pretty and his interest peaked further, as he imagined his sexy man sitting in the front seat. He wanted to see Ian drive it. Fuckin’ needed to see that shit as soon as possible. He looked back and forth between Ian and the truck, slightly confused. 

“It's the company truck. It's mine now.” Ian said, with a wide smile. He pulled the truck keys from his pocket and dangled them in front of Mickey’s face. 

“They just let you have it?” Mickey ask, still in disbelief. He walked toward the truck and swiped his palm across the grill, instantly feeling the heat radiating off the engine.

“Well, technically it's not mine really, but they're gonna let me drive it...everyday. They even pay for the gas.” 

Mickey walked around and examined the truck further, mumbling curses of praise under his breath. It was a Dodge Ram F 250 and sat at least three foot off the ground. It was a 4x4 with a huge extended bed in the back. 

“You want to take a ride?” Ian asked, his smile growing wider from Mickey’s reaction. 

“Do I wanna take a ride?” He laughed and gave Ian a playful smile, “Mmm..Always down to ride with you.” 

Mickey followed Ian's lead and opened the door to get inside. He was going to need a fuckin’ step stool to get inside the motherfucker. He placed his left foot inside the truck and grabbed the handle on the inside to pull himself up. The force it took to climb into the truck winded him and once he was happily seated, he saw the amused green eyes and cocky grin plastered across his boyfriend's face. Apparently it hadn't taken the long legged fucker near as much time, or strength that it had taken him to get inside.

“I coulda helped you out Mick.” 

“Fuck off.” Mickey scoffed, and threw his middle finger up.

Ian turned the key and the deep growl of the engine filled Mickey's ears. He watched as Ian grabbed his Oakley sunglasses off the dash and put them on. Ian turned and gave him another dazzling smile before putting the truck in reverse and squealing out into the street. Ian had the truck up to sixty miles per hour in seconds, and Mickey watched their neighborhood pass by in a blur of colors outside the window. They were driving away from the lights of the Southside and into the quiet, ritzy suburbs on the West side of town.

Ian had his left hand wrapped around the steering wheel and the other hand pressed firmly against Mickey’s inner thigh. If he was trying to impress him, it was definitely working. Ian turned the radio up and a catchy country song spouted from the speakers. Mickey was never a big fan of country music but, seeing and hearing Ian sing along made his head bob to the beat.

“Body like a backroad driving with my eyes closed. I know every curve like the back of my hand..” Ian sang along and rubbed his thumb absentmindedly against Mickey's jean covered thigh. The man could barely carry a tune but, it was sexy nonetheless. 

The consistent rumble of the engine made his ass vibrate in the seat and that paired with Ian's caressing thumb had him all kinds of hot. Seeing Gallagher drive was even more sexy than he thought it would be. Maybe it was the sunglasses, the five o'clock shadow against his jaw, or the way his callous covered palm gripped the steering wheel that got him going. Mickey shifted in the seat, adjusting himself to make room for the hardening dick inside his pants. 

Ian took him to Sizzlers to celebrate. They had their first date there four years ago; it's the only restaurant in town that will cook Mickey’s steak the way he likes it and not give him shit about it. They ordered the fattest steaks on the menu and split a pitcher of beer together. 

A glass of beer down and Gallaghers cheeks are already rosy. He was staring again. His emerald eyes fixated on the way Mickey's lips circled around the fork as he pulled a piece of steak dripping with blood into his mouth. By the end of the meal, his hands and lips are all over Mickey. People are staring, but Mickey gives no fucks and bends his neck so Ian's warm mouth can kiss down his throat. “Pay for the shit and let's get outta here.” Mickey said, pushing his empty plate away. His request falls on deaf ears as Ian slides his wet tongue against his collarbone. He squirms in his seat when a warm hand runs over the front of his jeans and grasps onto his semi hardened dick.

“Feels good, Mick.” Ian praises against his neck and applies more pressure against Mickey's jean covered center.

There are only three things going through Mickey's head: he needs to piss, he needs a cigarette, and he needs Ian to fuck him as soon as possible. “Ch..CHECK.” He yells, trying to catch the attention of their flighty waitress who's cleaning nearby tables. He feels and hears Ian chuckle against his throat and suddenly feels embarrassed when the waitress walks over with an annoyed expression. 

“Will you be having dessert this evening?” She asks, trying to nonchalantly look away from their public display of affection. She can't help but stare and her face reddens under the bright florescent light hanging above the table. 

Ian removes his lips from Mickey and pulls his wallet out of the front pocket of his jeans. The waitresses demeanor suddenly changes when Ian's eyes meet hers and he reaches his debit card out. Now she's licking her lips and biting down on the tip of her index finger, completely enthralled with him. Mickey folds his arms across his chest unimpressed. He has to literally bite down on his tongue to prevent making a scene. Bitch doesn't have a chance in hell.

“We're gonna have dessert at home.” Ian said, giving Mickey a wink. He pays her no attention and lowers his mouth back against Mickey's neck. 

“Can't take you anywhere,” Mickey growls and elbows him in the stomach, “You see the way she was fuckin’ lookin at you? Like a fuckin’ piece of meat?”

“No..I was too busy looking at this,” Ian's hand grips him hard and Mickey bites back a moan, “I like cock…Mickey.” Ian reminds him, tracing the outline of his length with soft fingertips. 

“Yeah?” Mickey is so caught up in the moment he doesn't notice the waitress walking back to the table. She returns Ian's card and Ian scribbles his signature on the receipt and hands it back to her. Ian grabs his hand and Mickey tries to cover up the obvious bulge in his pants as they walk outside. As soon as they're in front of the truck Ian grabs his neck and pulls him into a sloppy kiss. His mouth covers Mickey’s completely and he's pulling him closer; shoving his tongue deep inside his mouth like he's trying to consume him whole. Mickey pulls away dazed and breathless, “How fast can you get home?” He asks, his body already wrecked from just one kiss. 

“Ten minutes?” 

“Do it in seven.” Mickey says, rounding his hands around Ian's hips and kneading his firm ass inside his palms. 

He made it there in eight minutes, but Mickey didn't hold it against him. They stumbled their way through the house with their lips and bodies smashed together. When they got to the bedroom, Ian picked him up in his strong arms and he automatically wrapped his legs around Ian's waist. He pinned Mickey up against the wall and rutted his hips against him roughly, causing both of them to gasp and separate. 

“Take your fucking shirt off...before I rip it off.” Mickey ordered, eager to see his boyfriends naked stomach. He was breathing heavy and was way past the point of taking things slow. Ian held him in place with his hips and tore the tank top up and over his head quickly. He returned to Mickey’s lips and Mickey impatiently bucked against him, “More..please.” 

Ian grabbed him and walked over to the bed and dropped him onto the pile of soft covers. When Mickey has a chance to look at him again, he's completely naked and holding his thick cock in his hands,“You want me baby?” Ian asks, as if he doesn't already know the answer. 

Mickey nodded his head and quickly started undressing. Once fully naked, he raises up on his elbows and reaches out for his lover to join him on the bed. Ian drops his right knee onto the bed and taps his dripping cock against Mickey’s lips, “You want my cock baby?” Ian asks again, smiling mischievously waiting for his reply. He recently found out that Mickey had a kink for dirty talk and he's been using it against him ever since.

"Fuck yes, Ian." Mickey spoke out, shaking his head and parting his lips to allow Ian to guide the soft tip into his mouth. Ian's hand was still wrapped around the base of his cock as he languidly circled it around Mickey's pouty pink lips, “Your mouth is so good and beautiful baby.” Ian praises, and he almost loses it right there from the sight of Mickey’s gaping mouth and outward stretched tongue just asking for more. He thrusts himself further into Mickey’s warm mouth and lets him take over. “Ah..fuck Mick..you're so good to my cock.” His eyes are clenched shut and Mickey’s thick lips surround the base of his cock tightly, making his whole body twitch deliciously. He fists his hands in black hair and throws his head back as the expert mouth lowers down even further and engulfs him whole. 

Mickeys hands are around Ian's hips guiding him in and out of his mouth quickly. He could suck this cock for days. His fingernails dig into Ian's ass cheeks as he takes him faster, slurping and sucking around his length hungrily. Ian comes quickly, screaming his name and jerking into his mouth with shaky legs. His hot release fills up Mickey’s mouth and spills out of the corners of his lips. Ian opens his eyes and looks down at him lovingly, “You're so fucking perfect...just..god...I fucking love you.” He drops down and kisses Mickey softly, immediately tasting himself on the tip of his velvet tongue. 

Ian pushes him back against the bed and kisses Mickey all over. He starts at the base of Mickeys throat and wriggles his tongue slowly toward the center of his chest while Mickeys bucks wantonly underneath him. He knows Mickey wants it hard and fast but he chooses to take things slower, allowing himself time to get hard again.

They never got to enjoy taking things slow before and now in the privacy of their own house, Ian seemed to choose this pace more frequently. He loved delaying Mickey's satisfaction; winding him up tightly, taking him to the brink of combustion and then slowly backing off. 

Mickey is twisting his fingers in the hair against the base of his neck tightly and it's a blissful mixture of pain and pleasure that coax him along. He bites and sucks along the valley of Mickey’s chest and flicks his slippery tongue against the man's hardened pink nipple. He takes the swollen bud into his mouth and sucks lightly. His name is a heavenly chorus being chanted by the angel underneath him and his cock is now fully erect and aching for release. Ian licks and sucks on the other nipple and watches Mickey's face contort in pleasure. He sticks two fingers inside his mouth and coats them liberally in saliva, before messaging his fingers at the entrance of Mickey's ass. 

“Get the lube bitch.” Mickey mumbles, eyes scrunched together from the index finger attempting to breach his tight ring of muscles. 

Ian rolls over and reaches into the bedside drawer to grab their blue bottle of lube. He flips Mickey over on his stomach, making him gasp in surprise. He spreads Mickey wide and snakes his wet tongue from the top of his tailbone to the underside of his balls. He slams his palm against Mickey's round ass making Mickey yelp in pain, “What the fuck was that Gallagher?” He asked, his voice barely audible against the covers. 

Ian slapped him on the other ass cheek hard and smiled upon hearing a low moan rip from deep inside Mickey. He loved this shit. He situated himself on top of Mickey's thick thighs and kneaded the mans bouncy ass with his hands. He spread the lube with his fingers and dipped his index finger inside Mickey slowly; twisting and turning, working him open before adding his middle finger to the mix.

“Aye...you gonna get in me or what?” Mickey ask, panting as Ian's long fingers probed inside him at a teasingly slow pace. He rocked back against Ian's fingers harder, showing the redhead he was ready for more. He could feel Ian hard and dripping against his ass and he knew the shithead was holding back. It was both agonizing and erotic; he's never felt so hard and horny in his whole life. He wants to be wrecked by the beast of a cock his boyfriend is packing. Fuckin’ needs that shit. Mickey can't hold back the word vomit that erupts from his lips, “Oh god..I swear on everything..if you don't fuck me right now, I'm going to knock you on your tight ass and give it to you in ways you can't even begin to fathom.” Mickey was seriously contemplating the idea; he didn't give a fuck that Ian was the top in the relationship. He would get his chance one day and he planned to toy with the man just as much, if not more. Mickey whined happily when Ian finally thrust into him.

He didn't give Mickey time to adjust. He immediatly surged his cock in deep and hard and set a mind blowing pace that had Mickey crying his name out and biting his lips. Seconds later Mickey's body spasmed; the tightly wrapped coil inside his groin burst and he came untouched into the buried blankets underneath him. 

Ian kept going, relentless and determined to give Mickey the fuck of his life. He snapped his hips hard and faster against Mikey's ass, fucking him deeper into the bed. His fingers were like claws digging into the sides of Mickeys hips; pulling him back and forth just enough to watch his cock disappear inside Mickey over and over again. His rhythm suddenly slows and he spanks Mickey's ass one more time, before shooting his seed deep inside his lover's warm body. " 

“Goddanm Gallagher, you're like a fuckin’ seventeen year old again….fuck for hours.” Mickey was fully spent and fucking exhausted, but it was all worth it. 

Ian placed a wet kiss against his shoulder and rolled off Mickey gasping for air. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and lit a cigarette for them to share, “Hey baby,” He said, holding the Marlboro out at Mickey. 

“What?” Mickey asked, his eyes closed and moments away from sleeping. 

“I'm the Foreman in bed too.” He clicks his tongue in his cheek and his deep, hearty laugh fills Mickey's ears.


	3. FUCK-U-UP Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey meets Tommy and things go horribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be in two parts. It's kinda angsty, but it's all going to work out.

Mickey hated feeling vulnerable. He used to have unshakable concrete walls surrounding his heart. They protected him from feeling pain and anything _else_ really.

These walls held steady and true, until he met Ian Gallagher. The man crashed into him like a fuckin’ wrecking ball. He was always there; staring, pushing his boundaries, digging his way underneath Mickey’s bulletproof skin. Not giving up until his heart was naked and fully exposed. For the first time in his life, Mickey allowed himself to be swept up in a pair of strong arms and emerald eyes. Mickey was slowly changing; a daily regimen of mind blowing sex and a good man will do that to you. Gallagher was showing Mickey how to feel again. Maybe a Southside thug like himself, was worthy and capable of love afterall.

Every once and awhile Mickey could see glimmers of his old self shine through. Like today for instance. He messed up. Like, fucked shit up on a colossal level. He said some shit he's not proud of, and did some shit he probably should regret, but he doesn't. And on some weird level, it felt so thrilling and satisfying to him.

There were no muddy boots sitting by the door. No babbling Gallagher sitting next to him on the couch, smoking like a fuckin’ dragon. He just polished off a fifth of Jack and was well into the opened case of beer next to his feet. He drank like this when shit got too heavy. When he couldn't handle _feeling_. Maybe if he drank enough he could forget his shitty day and Gallagher’s absence. Or at least, drink himself to the point of not giving a fuck about either.

The knuckles on his right hand were swollen and splattered with Tommy Payne’s blood. It had felt so fuckin’ good to hit someone again. He almost forgot what that felt like. He may be a bit softer around the edges now, but he's still fuckin’ got it.

Mickey concluded that being in love made him fuckin’ crazy. He's never felt like this before and it was terrifying. He would do anything for Gallagher.  He’d probably kill someone over that man. All he knew was that he'd never allow anyone to take advantage of his man, or ship him off to ‘Fucksville Kentucky’. He would never stand for it. He knows he's overprotective and that Gallagher’s a grown man who can easily take care of himself, but he couldn't resist. He took matters into his own hands and Ian should've _thanked_ him, really.

* * *

 

The day started out perfectly. Mickey was situated between the toned legs of his insatiable boyfriend, taking him in deep and suckling around him with fervor. It was too early in the morning to function, but Gallagher and his cock demanded attention and Mickey was happy to oblige. Ian's body jerked and shuddered through an intense orgasm as Mickey swallowed around him.

“You're sooo fucking good at that, Mick.” Ian said, his legs still shaking from pleasure. He's spread out naked across the bed; breathless and limp. He tries to regain his bearings, blindly searching through the sheets for the warmth of his lovers hand. He gathers enough strength to raise his head up from the pillow and open his eyes. Mickey’s arms are wrapped firmly around his thighs, with his nose nuzzling the red curls of pubic hair along his lower stomach. He carefully reaches out and cradles Mickey’s face softly in his palm; massaging his thumb against the man's red glistening lips with appreciation.

Ian's gaze was heavy and possessive. No one ever fuckin’ looks at him like that. Ian's eyes made him feel things. There are so many words he wants to say. _You are everything to me._ _I want to spend the rest of my life with you._ The words are there, but he can't say them. He can't even say I love you. The fuck is wrong with him? He looks away, breaking the connection to glance at the watch around Ian's wrist, “You're gonna be late for work.” He said, sliding his tongue across his bottom lip.

Ian squinted at his watch and shot up and out of bed in seconds, “Fuck, Tommy is gonna be so pissed.”

While the naked Gallagher searched for his jeans in the dark room, Mickey settled back in bed and yawned. He watched as Ian pulled on a pair of  light blue jeans over his naked ass.

“You forgetting something there?” Mickey ask, with a smile.

“What?” Ian grabbed his belt and spun around confused.

“Bob The Builder's going commando today...fuckin’ nice,” Mickey smiled and wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis, “How are those guys gonna get any fuckin’ work done with you around?”

“You're lucky you're cute Milkovich.” Ian chuckled, as he threaded his belt through the loops of his jeans. He walked back over to the bed and dropped down to kiss Mickey’s lips.

They were both reluctant to part, but life and all its responsibilities was calling. Ian finished getting dressed and hurried out of the house and drove to the job site. He hoped Tommy Payne had also chosen to receive a blow job this morning instead of coming to work on time.

* * *

 

Mickey woke up hours later and slapped his hand around the bedside table searching for his smokes. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up in bed to smoke his cigarette. His phone was vibrating noisily against the table and he was happy no one was around to see the giddy look he had while reading Ian's text. Gallagher sent him good morning text messages everyday, just to remind him that he was thinking about him. They were usually dirty texts, (sometimes on a really good day he'd get a dick pic) but mostly, it was just Gallagher checking in on him and saying sweet shit.

Gallagher: Good morning baby. Forgot my wallet on the kitchen counter. Can you bring it up here?

Mickey: Yeah..gonna shit and shower and I'll be up there.

Ian's never invited him to the job site before. He  was working two blocks away today, repairing the roof of a local business. He's been tempted to visit Ian on site many times, but he didn't want to come off as clingy. Ian took his job very seriously and he thought it would be disrespectful to just show up uninvited. Now he could meet Ian’s fuck head boss Tommy, and lay his suspicions to rest.

Ian: thinking of you in the shower...bad day to forget underwear.

Mickey smashed his cigarette into the ashtray and hurried into the bathroom to take care of both of his needs.

* * *

It was almost noon when Mickey left the house wearing black jeans and a green tank top. It's been a rather brutal summer in Chicago. The city seemed to be covered in a blanket of heat that just wouldn't let up. Along with the raging heat, came severe thunderstorms and heavy rain. He felt kind of guilty that he got to sit at home, half naked in the a.c., while Ian had to work in this shit.

It was a short walk, but his shirt is already sticky and covered in sweat when he sees Ian. He’s standing on top of a mangled roof a few houses over, body silhouetted against a blue cloudless sky. He's got a brown tool belt around those tight blue jeans he squeezed into this morning and his ass looks unbelievable. Mickey’s mouth waters when he remembers that Ian's not wearing any underwear. Under further examination Mickey  notices the man's not wearing his yellow hard hat either and there's a muddy hand print marking the left ass cheek of his jeans.

As he gets closer he sees a monstrous tree trunk lying across the roof. The whole back side of the building was caved in, with tree branches and chunks of debris littering the saturated earth. There was a sign in front of the building that read, ‘Southside Realty’. He is already pissed and he just got here.

“Aye, Gallagher.” Mickey yells, looking up at Ian and shielding the sun from his eyes with a cupped hand.

Ian turns around and his whole face lights up, “Mick, you came.”

“Told ya I would.” He shook his head and glared at the other two men on the rooftop beside Ian. They both had tanned skin, dark hair, and brown eyes.

“So you're the guy that Gallagher won't shut up about.” A heavy set middle aged man spoke up, eyeballing Mickey curiously. He had an unfamiliar accent that Mickey couldn't quite place. His arms were tattooed from wrist to shoulder in tribal esque patterns.

“Yeah, that's him.” Ian said, already on the other side of the roof and climbing down the ladder.

He feels weird. These guys are staring at him and he doesn't know what to say. He grabs Ian's wallet and reaches it out, “Don't forget your shit, next time I might not be kind enough to walk it to you. Fuckin’ hot as balls out here.” He wiped at the sweat on his forehead and turned to leave.

“Mick, I wanted you to meet the guys.”

“Yeah, sure whatever.”

Ian points at the middle aged, chubby man still sitting on the roof, “That's Tommy,” The man waves and smiles.

“You guys been playing grab ass this morning? Huh?” Mickey yells up. Tommy is climbing down the ladder and the other man just tilts his head in confusion, “You got somethin’ to say asshole?”

“That's Marc. He doesn't know English.”  Ian stated, placing a sweaty palm against his shoulder. “Calm down, Mick.”

“You gotta fuckin’ hand print on your ass and you're tellin me to calm down?” Mickey laughs and shakes him off. He grabs a Marlboro from his pack and places it between his lips. He's seconds away from lighting his smoke when Ian slaps at his hand.

“Can't smoke on site, not professional.”

“Does it look like I fuckin’ work here firecrotch?” He asked, with the cigarette still dangling from his lips. He lights it and blows a cloud of smoke towards Ian while smiling wildly. So maybe this is why he's never been asked to visit Ian on site before.  

“Why are you being such a dick right now?”

“Why you letting fat old fucks grab your ass? Or was it the other skinny Mexican dude?” Mickey ask, voice loud and acidic.

“It's nothing Mick. Jesus Christ just chill the fuck out...you're gonna get me fired!” Ian grabs his arm and jerks him over to the sidewalk where the truck is parked. “You gotta stop this shit. I can't fuckin’ talk to anyone without you being a dick. How many times I gotta show you that I want you?” He's  pushing Mickey’s shoulders up against the side of the truck with his big hands, holding him firmly in place. His thumbs dig into exposed skin and he moves his face closer to Mickey’s mouth. There's a struggle for power as Mickey bumps his chest against Ian's, trying to break free.

“Ian, take lunch.” The voice comes out of nowhere. Ian and Mickey turn their heads to see Tommy standing at the front of the truck watching them closely. He seems more amused than pissed off. Ian released his grip and Mickey shoved him away angrily.

Mickey sets down on the sidewalk and smokes while Ian and Tommy talk. That's when he sees it. Parked next to the black truck Ian drove, was a white utility truck with a big sticker on the side that said, ‘Pain Construction’. He's weary of the utility truck and it's significance, but maybe he _is_  overreacting like Ian says.

Three cigarettes later, Ian and Tommy walk over to him with two bottles of water. He's much calmer now, having had time to process Ian's words. Ian sits down on the curb next to him and hands out a bottle of water.

“Ian says you need a job. You interested in working with us?” Tommy asked, hovering over Mickey.

“I've never really built anything before. I don't think it's a good idea for me to be around here...prolly end up causing trouble and getting this shit fired.” He nudges Ian with his shoulder and chuckles.

“Well if you change your mind there's always open spots on the crew. Can't keep anyone here for longer than a few months. Gallagher sets the bar high, so they usually leave when they see what this job entails. He's a good boss though, the men respect him, even though most of them don't speak English.”

Mickey wondered how many men worked for Tommy and were they all Mexicans like Marc? How could they follow Ian's directions if they couldn't speak English? How did that work?

“You like the truck Mickey?” Tommy asks.

“For a company truck she sure is a fuckin’ beast.” Mickey replies, lighting up another cigarette.

“That's not the company truck," Tommy laughs loudly and looks at Ian amused, " I just didn't like him having to ride the train to work. He needed a place to store his tools. Didn't want him to get robbed. It was just sitting in my garage collecting dust.”

Ian chokes on a mouthful of water.

“We been riding that train for years man, Southside is a lot safer than it used to be. What do you mean it was sitting in your garage?” Mickey says, flicking the ashes off his cigarette. Adrenaline begins flowing through his body and his fingers twitch from the anticapation. 

“I bought the black truck two years ago and then bought the white one to use only for work. Ian's a good kid. I was happy to give him the keys. He's helped me and my business make alot of money. He didn't tell you?”

“I just wanna make sure we're on the same fuckin’ page here,” Mickey stands up and stomps the cigarette out with his heel, “You gave Ian the fuckin’ truck cause he's a good kid that makes you money?”

“Yes.” Tommy shook his head, completely unaware of the rage boiling inside Mickey.

Why would Ian except a gift like that from this older man? Ian wasn't just some kid there to make him money. Obviously the whole point of the job was to make money, but Ian didn't have to be a construction worker. He was so much more than just a strong bodied laborer. So Mickey’s been lied to; obviously the company truck should have the company logo on it. How did he not notice that before? So what did this man expect in exchange for the truck? Did him and Ian have a secret understanding? If Ian lied about the truck, what else has he been lying about?

Ian jumped up from the curb and reached out to touch Mickey’s shoulder. He could tell Mickey was about to explode. Ian watched as his boyfriend clinched his fist, drew back and hit Tommy square in the nose. The sound of cracking bone filled the air and Ian stood there frozen in shock.

The punch knocked Tommy flat on his ass and his nose immediately began pouring blood. Mickey crouched down beside Tommy and landed another punch to the side of his bloody face, “Don't fuckin’ need your charity...asshole. Ian doesn't need you.” His fist connected again, before he felt Ian’s strong arms surround him and pull him away.

He kicked and thrashed against Ian angrily. He wanted to beat the shit out of Tommy’s fat fuckin’ face. He throws his head back and head butts Ian in the face. Once Mickey is free, he runs back to Tommy. The man's rolling around in the street groaning in pain, holding his bloodied face inside his shaky hands. Mickey stomps on the his stomach with his heel and Tommy screams out in pain.

Ian regains his footing and approaches Mickey again, “Mick, they're gonna call the cops.” He can hear Ian's soft pleading voice willing him to stop. He sees that his lip is busted and droplets of blood are staining the white tank top he's wearing, but all he can feel is Ian's betrayal. This is how he used to handle his feelings before Gallagher. This is what he knows.

There's a small crowd of onlookers gathered in the street, watching the gruesome fight. Ian's worried and scared. He hasn't seen this side of Mickey in years and he doesn't know how to get him to stop. His words do nothing and Mickey kicks Tommy again, in the face this time. Ian jabs Mickey in the throat with his fingers and Mickey falls to his knees gasping for air.

“What the fuck, Gallagher!” Mickey says, circling his fingers around his throat, begging the pain to go away.

“You have to leave....now!” Ian yells, dropping down on the concrete to check on his boss.  Tommy is in rough shape. “Mickey get the fuck outta here!” Ian yells again and this time Mickey listens.

  
Mickey runs the whole way home. He might catch a fuckin’ charge over this. What the fuck did he just do?


	4. FUCK-U-UP Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Switching back and forth between Mickeys pov and Ian's for this chapter. 
> 
> Ian gets a new boss and he and Mickey make up.

* * *

By the time five o'clock rolls around he's fuckin’ wasted. The alcohol didn't make him forget the shit that happened today, or make it any easier for him to deal with. Ian's been calling his phone for a solid hour and he's too angry, drunk, or whatever to answer. If Ian wanted something, he knew where Mickey fuckin’ lived.

The phone went silent and Mickey let out a long exhausted breath. He was seconds away from nodding out, when Ian loudly opened the front door and stomped through the kitchen.

Ian walked into the living room and narrowed his eyes at Mickey. “Been trying to call you for an hour!” He yells, as he takes in the drunken sight of his boyfriend. Mickey’s slumped down in the couch wearing only his boxers, his face a paler shade of white. There are empty beer cans scattered on the carpet, the couch, and lining the coffee table.

Mickey grabs his phone and shakes it at Ian, “Phones dead.” He chuckles and keeps his eyes closed, because the room is spinning. He knows if he could see Ian’s face right now he’d have the same disappointed look on his face his mom had when Terry came home too drunk. He felt bad about beating the shit out of Ian's boss, but he felt like the fucker deserved it. There was still something off about that guy, even if Ian couldn't see it. “So this is it right?” He mumbles tiredly, preparing himself for the inevitable crash of Ian's words.

“How much have you drank Mick?” Ian asked, viewing the empty fifth of Jack wedged between the couch cushions. He is worried now and that stifles any kind of anger he has left toward Mickey.

“Go ahead and get the ssshit over with mmmannn. You don'ttt gotta explain..I uunununderststand.” His voice comes out slurred and shaky. He feels the pain split through his chest and his eyes burn with unshed tears.

“What are you talking about?” Ian sits down and curls his hand around Mickey’s shoulder. He runs his hand up and down Mickey's arm, attempting to warm his cold skin.

“Gallagher, I love you,” His eyes are still clenched shut when he says it, because he's still too afraid to look Ian in the eye. The alcohol is urging him on, bringing out a confidence he didn't know he could possess,“I know I don't always say it, or show it in the best ways, but it's true. I don't treat you the way you deserve, and if you decide to walk outta here tonight and never come back...I just want you to know...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I fucked your boss up, that it took me three years to come out; the bullying, the fighting, the jealousy, my fuckin’ dad.” He opens his eyes and places a shaky hand against the redhead's cheek. Ian's lip is split and there's a deep purple bruise on his jaw; evidence of their scuffle from earlier. Mickey’s bottom lip trembled and tears streamed down his face as he made one final confession, “You're everything to me Ian.”

Ian shakes his head softly, “You shouldn't be the one saying sorry. This shit is on me, Mick. I should have told you the truth. I love you and all that shit in the past made us stronger, baby. You know how I feel about you.” He pressed his forehead against Mickey’s and wiped away the tears from his wet cheeks. He hated seeing Mickey so broken and it was all his fault.

“Why would you lie to me?” Mickey asked, leaning away to grab a cigarette from his pack. All this talk about feelings made him need to smoke.

“I thought you'd freak out. Ya know, go all Floyd Maywheather on Tommy’s face.” Ian laughed, trying his best to lighten the mood, “He's okay by the way. Got his nose reset at the ER, kinda still crooked, but owell. He's an ugly motherfucker anyways.”

“You still got a job?” Mickey asked, as cigarette smoke billowed around them.

“About that,” Ian darted his eyes away and his fingers nervously fiddled with a hole on the knee of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ spit it out, man. Poured my fuckin’ heart out back there.” Mickey took another pull from the smoke and waited.

“There's this job in Kentucky,” Ian raised his hands up defensively, “We got the work order yesterday, and Tommy just told me about it today. Honestly.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean? You work in Chicago?”

“There is a crew of men staying here in Chicago and they want a few of us to go to Kentucky for a month. To work on a bridge. We could use the money, Mick.”

“Let me guess, Tommy is going and he wants you to go with him? We don't need money that fuckin’ bad, Gallagher. You wanna fuck this guy? Huh?” He was still so fuckin’ angry and things just kept getting worse.

“Fuck, Mick. I don't wanna fuck Tommy. I'm trying to get us out of here.”

“What? Get us outta where exactly?”

“Don't you want to get outta the South Side? We been here since we were kids. There's so much shit out there we haven't seen. I want to buy a new house.”

“We already have a house,” Mickey fumed raising his eyebrows and gesturing around them, “It's fuckin’ _here_ , in the Southside, in fuckin’ Chicago. What's wrong with my house?”

“Baby, nothing's wrong with your house. I love it here, but I just thought we could buy something together. Maybe something bigger?”

“Why would we need a bigger house? There's two of us.” Mickey didn't grasp where Ian was going with all this.

“I want to have a family together someday. You and me, I mean.” Ian scratched his neck nervously. He was from a big family and had always wanted that for himself one day.

“Like kids? Little slobbering munchkins, gettin into shit all the time?”

“Yes.” Ian said, nodding his head in agreement.

Gallagher was putting a lot of shit on him. How could he be thinking of kids right now? The idea did warm his heart. He could just picture Ian out in the front yard tossing around a football around with their son or, daughter. Shit, he didn't know the first thing about little girls or, children for that matter. What if his kids hated him? What if they hated him like he hated Terry?

“Gallagher, can we please just talk about all this when I'm sober? Makin’ my head hurt.” He massaged his temples and cocked his eyebrow at his boyfriend. He studied Ian's face closely, trying to gauge the seriousness of his words. This man really wanted to have a family with him someday.

“You’d be a great dad Mick.”

“Fuck, Ian. Give it a rest.” The words had a bit more bite to them than Mickey wanted, but he's too exhausted to continue the conversation. He doesn't want to think anymore. He leaned his head back against the couch and silently repeated Ian's words, ‘ _A great dad_ ’. Yeah, maybe one day.

“So are we okay?” Ian hesitated, “Do you want me to stay, or not?”

“I'm still pissed off Gallagher. Maybe it's best if you just stay with Fiona tonight. I'll text you in the morning.”

Ian stood up from the couch, feeling hurt. He deserved the cold shoulder, but it still fucking hurt. He hasn't spent a night away from Mickey in a year and the thought of sleeping on the couch at the Gallagher house was so unappealing. He decided to give Mickey the space he needed and leave like he wanted. If Mickey wanted to lie alone in a pile of slobber all night, so be it.

“You need to decide if you're going to Kentucky with that geriatric prick. If you go, I'm not gonna wait around for you like a little bitch. Not gonna sit here and wonder if you're balls deep in some guy every night you ‘forget’ to call.”

Mickey hears Ian's heavy boots stomp through the kitchen and his front door slams shut loudly. He didn't want Ian to spend the night at Fiona's house, but the shit was too heavy to deal with tonight. He would face it tomorrow with a clear head and when he wasn't emotionally and belligerently drunk.

He made a quick decision to make use of the liquid confidence still coursing through his veins. Using the last bit of energy he could muster, he picked his phone up from the table and made a very important phone call. Tommy Payne was fuckin’ going down.

* * *

 

The first glimmers of sunlight peaked through the sky as Ian boarded the train. He had a thermos full of coffee and his hard hat tucked under his arms as he squeezed onto the crowded train. He hated riding the El in the morning because, there was never an empty place to sit. It never failed, he always ended up shoulder to shoulder with the same lady bouncing her screaming baby against her hip. The child was barely clothed and dirty, with a swollen piss filled diaper. The child's ear piercing shrieks invaded the tight space around them and he clenched his eyes tightly.

Ian shifted slightly, balancing his stuff to slide his phone out of his pocket. Still no word from Mickey. He quickly typed his good morning message just like he always did.

 **Ian** : Good morning baby. I missed you last night, couldn't sleep. Sorry if I made things worse. Please call me when you wake up. I love you baby.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and sighed heavily at the women and her screaming child. He tilted his head against the cool window and impatiently waited for his stop.

Today he was working in West Chicago in the suburbs. Tommy text him last night and said that Southside Realty was a lost cause. There was too much damage to the property and they were just going to scrap the whole building. He had the new address plugged into his GPS and walked down the street searching for Tommy’s white utility truck.

A few houses down he saw a familiar face. The guy's name was Roger and he was an operator on Ian's crew. He was the youngest man on the roster and the rookie that everyone messed with. The other men called him Junior and constantly picked on the kid because he couldn't do anything but operate the bucket. And when he wasn't operating the excavator he was on his phone talking to his boyfriend.

If there was anyone on the crew Mickey should have been worried about it was Roger, but he didn't exactly fit Ian's type. He was a closeted gay, with an animated personality and a soft voice. He lacked common sense and had never been in a fight. He was too _skinny_ and too _nice_ for comfort. He was standing at the edge of the curb with one hand on his hip and the other hand waving Ian over. His thick blond hair was pulled back into a messy bun and he was smoking a cigarette on their fucking job site.

“You can't smoke on the job site Roger! How many fucking times I gotta tell you the same shit?” Ian rolled his eyes and looked around for the other workers. “Where is everyone at?” He was pissed off that Roger was on the work schedule for today. He didn't want to babysit the rookie today.

“Tommy’s not here. Marc, Luis, Christein, all no shows,” Roger flicked his cigarette into the street and turned toward the abandoned house behind them, “What are we supposed to do now?”

Ian searched through the contacts on his phone, calling everyone he could think of. Tommy didn't answer and none of the other guys answered either. He could understand Tommy wanting to take the day off, but the other men were reliable employees who never missed work. _Something was wrong._ He swiped a hand through his hair and reluctantly sat down on the curb. He took the top off his thermos and flipped it upside down to pour himself a cup of coffee. He grabbed his pack of Marlboros and lit one up, “Fuck it.” He motioned for Roger to join him on the curb.

“Honey, I heard about what happened yesterday, with your boyfriend and Tommy,” Roger snorted, “Heard he fucked Tommy up.”

“Who told you that?”

“We were at the Alibi last night and it was the talk of the night. Please don't tell me you're mad at him. I wish my boyfriend would hit a guy for me. Let that man take care of you honey, he's sexy.” Roger slapped Ian playfully and licked his lips.

“He shouldn't have hit Tommy. That was fucked up. I coulda been fired.”

“Yeah, but you _weren't_ and that dude is a creep. Always grabbing your ass and telling you how proud he is. Fucking Weirdo.”

“It's not like that. He's just a nice guy.” Ian defended, “Jesus Christ, he's got a fucking wife and kids.”

“How can you not see it Gallagher? That man wants a big ole’ piece of your ass. Mickey was just checkin’ him. I think he got the message across just fine, Fuck-u-up baby!” Roger laughed loudly and fist pumped the air wildly. Apparently Mickey had a fan.

Rogers voice faded as a silver truck hauled ass down the road and pulled into the driveway next to them. Roger and Ian watched as a woman wearing a grey pantsuit and heels stepped down from the truck and approached them.

“Ian Gallagher?”

Ian jumped up from the curb and reached out to shake the woman's hand. Her long black hair framed around the soft features of her face. “I'm Ian Gallagher ma’am.” He said politely, wondering who she was and what she wanted with him. Her face was void of any emotion, and Ian wondered if the woman ever smiled.

“I’m Mandy Gates, your new boss.” She shook his hand and pressed her lips together tightly. She looked the two men over unimpressed.

Roger snorted, “Yeah, but you're-”

“A woman? Yes, thank you for noticing. So, Tommy has royally fucked this business up and I've been sent here to get things under control.” She shook her head at Roger annoyed, “If either of you got a fuckin’ problem workin’ for a woman you can both fuck off with that male chauvinistic crap. I don't wanna hear it.”

Ian smiled at the woman and thanked the gods for sending her. She was Southside through and through and it felt like he had known her for years. “What exactly did Tommy fuck up, if you don't mind me asking ma’am.”

“He's been trafficking illegals into the state's to work for him. Paying them less than desirable wages and not reporting them on the pay docket. Half the crew doesn't have accurate social security numbers or green cards. Tommy will be discussing his improper handling of the business with the IRS and INS. Now princess, you got any more fuckin’ questions?” She raised her eyebrows and curled her lip up.

Ian and Roger shook their heads no and remained quiet. Ian was impressed with this woman; she was beautiful and had a foul mouth just like Mickey. If he didn't know any better he would've guessed they were related. He decided then and there, that Mandy Gates was going to be his new best friend.

“Mr. Gallagher I was told you're the Foreman here?”

“Yes ma'am, I am.”

“Drop the formality Gallagher, it's Mandy. How bout you two fuckers take the day off to process what's going on. And Gallagher, I'm leaving you in charge of finding me another crew of men. You and Rapunzel over there will be fine for this week, but we’ll need more men. Be ready to work tomorrow you shit heads. I'll send you the address.” She spit on the ground beside Ian's feet, and sauntered her way back toward the truck. She pulled out of the driveway and smoked the tires as she drove off.

“Well she seems nice.” Roger said sarcastically, slapping Ian on the arm.

“She's wonderful.”

“Awe, Gallagher’s got a girl crush?” Roger teased, grabbing Ian's thermos and smokes.

“Nah man, she just reminds me of someone.”

“I can't wait to tell the guys about Tommy.” Roger said, practically skipping down the road.

“You fucking dope, there are no other guys. You heard her, there's me and there's your dainty Rapunzel ass,” Ian doubled over laughing, “She's gonna eat you alive Roger.”

“Bitch can try. Only thing I wanna know is how to work it in those heels. You see the way she was walkin’ in those? Bitch lookin’ fierce.”

Roger and Ian walked down the road exchanging insults and teasing one another about their new boss. In just a few hours his whole situation had changed. He couldn't wait to go home and tell Mickey.

* * *

 

Mickey turned over in bed and blindly searched for the warmth of Ian's body. All he managed to grasp was cold bed sheets and emptiness. He was so used to waking up in Ian's arms that he forgot about their fight. He groaned and sat up in bed, while unwanted memories from yesterday surfaced.

  
Tommy. Blood. _Ian you're everything_. Kids. _Fuck_.

He grabbed a cigarette and quickly lit it. Fuckin’ Jack always made him loose lipped and emotional. He couldn't remember everything he said, but he probably sounded like a bitch. He grabbed his phone and read Gallagher’s message. Before he could respond, the red head burst into the room without warning and Mickey’s heart jumped inside his throat. The lit cigarette slipped through his fingers and fell onto the comforter. “The fucks wrong with you!?” Mickey screamed, scrambling to grab the smoke before it burnt a huge hole through his covers.

“You weren't responding to my texts. How are you feeling baby?”

“Feelin fuckin’ hungover.”

“Well, Tommy got fired today,” Ian said, happily. He sat down on the edge of the bed and continued, “I got a new boss.”

“What's his name?” Mickey ask tiredly and rubbed his eyes. It was too fuckin’ early in the morning for Gallagher’s enthusiasm. He needed a cup of coffee and possibly half a bottle of Excedrin to deal with him.

“He's a she and her name is Mandy. If I didn't know any better I would guess you two were related. It's like looking at a girl version of you.”

“That's cause she is my sister, Gallagher.” Mickey kicked his legs out of the covers, trying to escape all the questions he knew would soon follow. Ian wrapped his hand around Mickey’s wrist and jerked him back toward the bed.

“You called INS on Tommy? You're sister is the fucking director of Southside construction?” Ian questioned, tightening his grip around Mickey’s arm and pulling him closer, “You've know this all along?”

“Mandy was the only Milkovich to make it outta this shit hole and go to college. When you applied for the job and got it, that was all _you_ Ian. The promotion was all _you_. She wouldn't have done shit for me even if I asked, but when she heard that Tommy had a bunch of illegals on your crew she flipped-” Before Mickey could finish, Ian's lips crashed into his fiercely.

“Thank you.” Ian murmured against Mickey’s lips, pulling back to look into his blue eyes. “I'm sorry I didn't see how much of a creep Tommy was. I shouldn't have lied, I just wanted to make you proud. Your the only one I care about. I love you baby, you mean everything to me.” 

Mickey threaded his hands around Ian's neck and smirked, “You missed me.” 

“I fucking missed you,” Ian pulled him back into bed and rolled them over so he was on top of Mickey. He forced both of Mickey’s hands above his head and peppered wet kisses against his neck, “And I'm gonna show you how much I fucking missed you, as soon as you take a shower and brush your teeth.”


	5. Baby, it's my birthday Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A younger Mickey goes to a Gallagher party uninvited and uncovers a hidden truth about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be in two parts. This half is a flashback of the night before Ian turned seventeen, four years ago. A chapter in the future will continue where this left off.
> 
> The next chapter will be set in the present where Mickey is planning Ian's 21st birthday party.

* * *

Mickey fell in love with Ian on the eve of his seventeenth birthday. That was the first time he noticed just how beautiful and special the man truly was. It wasn't their first meeting by any means, but it was the first time Mickey _saw_ Gallagher in this different light. He doesn't remember what possessed him to go there that night, because at the time he fuckin’ hated the Gallagher’s. It must have been the free beer and smoke that lured him there. He had a game plan: drink and smoke enough beer and weed to numb his face and then get the hell outta there.

The front door to the Gallagher house was standing wide open and he managed to slip in unnoticed at first. There were so many kids there, most of them he remembered terrorizing in High School, before he dropped out. He pushed past his old classmates with a cocky smile and their looks of fear didn't go unnoticed. No one dared to utter a fuckin’ word to him as he walked through the house and into the kitchen.

All the Gallagher’s were standing around the kitchen table, in the middle of a rather heated game of beer pong. Fiona stood at the end of the table, rolling a white ping pong ball between her fingers. There was only one cup left standing at the edge of the table and apparently it was on her, to bank the winning shot. Ian and Lip stood at the opposite end of the table, trying their best to distract her.

“FiOooNnnAaa, let us win! it's my birthday. You can't even make the shot!” Ian teased, swiping his hand in the air over the red solo cup, as if to block her shot. He pulled his hand back and allowed his sister to take her turn.

Fiona threw the ball and both boys held their breath, as the white pong ball circled the rim of the cup and plopped inside successfully. Everyone in the room cheered and a very excited Fiona jumped up and down enthusiastically. Without missing a beat, the redhead threw his head back and chugged the red cup full of beer.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Everyone chanted in unison and Mickey used their distraction to walk to the keg and fill a cup up with beer.

When he has a chance to look at the redhead again, the cup is empty and beer is running down his chin. Mickey’s eyes chase the liquid as it slides down Ian's jaw and gathered inside the shallow dip of his throat. Ian burped loudly and his brother Lip grabbed his neck and jostled him proudly. There was a weird pull at the corner of Mickey’s lips. Was he fuckin’ _smiling_ at Ian Gallagher? Since when did the gay ginger make him smile?

The room grew quiet and it's like Gallagher knew he was watching him. Ian gazed through the crowded kitchen and met his eyes from across the room. “Mickey!” Ian practically screamed and everyone's eyes darted toward Mickey standing beside the keg. _Fuck_.

“Mickey Milkovich?” Lip scoffs, “You invited him to your party?” He questions, confused.

Mickey bites the inside of his cheek and takes off toward the front door. He shoulda fuckin’ stayed at home. He's rounding the couch when Ian's hand circles around his wrist and stops him dead in his tracks.

“You're leaving?”

Mickey jerked his arm away, “Fuck you and your birthday.” He shook his head angrily and continued toward the door.

“We could smoke. I got weed. It's good.”

Mickey honestly doesn't know why Gallagher wanted him to stick around. It's not like they were fuckin’ friends, or something. The only contact he'd had with the kid was when he shoved the redhead into a locker his freshman year of High school. The promise of free weed made him turn around and look into Ian's green eyes for the second time that night.

“We smoke up and then I'm fuckin’ leaving, okay.”

“That's fine, Mick.”

“It's Mickey, shit head. And no gay shit either, Gallagher.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Ian climbed the stairs up to his room and Mickey followed.

Mickey didn't understand why they had to smoke in Ian's room. Why couldn't they just smoke downstairs where all the people were? Ian's room was quiet and the whole atmosphere made him uncomfortable. Ian plopped down on his twin sized bed and pulled out a joint from under his pillow.

“You can sit down.”

“That's okay. Don't wanna.” Mickey thumbed his nose and waited for Ian to spark up the joint. He tries to look away as Ian hollows his cheeks and curls his lips around the paper, but he can't stop watching. He never noticed the redhead had such a perfectly chiseled jawline before. And when did Gallagher’s chest get so broad?

Ian holds the smoke inside his lungs for several seconds, before exhaling and passing it off to Mickey. Ian's fingers brush against his and a wave of warmth spreads from the tip of his fingers to the middle of his chest. What was this feeling?

Mickey immediately placed the joint between his lips and pulled the sweet smoke into his lungs. He held the hit for awhile, allowing the smoke to calm his racing thoughts. He took one more hit and passed back to Ian, making sure not to touch him this time. His brain was beginning to feel fuzzy and he decided to sit down on the bed next to Ian. They passed the joint back and forth a couple more times, before Mickey found the courage to speak.

“Sorry I said fuck your birthday, man.”

“Well seventeen isn't anything to be celebrating over. Not like I'm turning twenty-one or anything. My birthdays not really until tomorrow, this is sorta like a welcome home party.”

“You're only seventeen? Where were you?” He thought Gallagher was older than that. Had it really been that long since he saw him? He didn't even notice he was gone.

“Yeah, it's a fucked up story. I decided to join the Army.” Ian laughed and passed the joint back to Mickey.

“But you're too young," Mickey noted, pressing his index finger against Ian's thumb, grabbing the small roach.

"I used my brother Lip’s name and ID. They never knew the difference."

Ian's eyes are on him again and Mickey confidently holds his gaze. He's smiling so big his cheeks hurt and his stomach is in fuckin' knots. He puckered his lips around the roach and inhaled deeply. He tried to hold the hit in, but his lungs protested with a constricted cough. He sputtered and choked for a solid minute; shaking the bed and the gorgeous man sitting next to him. "Fuckin' A Gallagher, that shit _is_ good." 

 "It's Medical grade kush. I believe Lip calls it, Girl Scout Cookies.” Ian said, laughing loudly.

Gallagher’s laugh was intoxicating and they both erupted in a fit of giggles. Mickey could've listened to him talk all night long. He liked that Ian didn't shrink away from him like most people did. The cocky little shit wasn't even scared of him. His eyes move from Ian's mouth to the collar of his green shirt. There are tiny freckles sprinkled along the creamy skin of his neck and Mickey’s fingers are itching to play connect the dots. He wondered what Ian's skin would feel like underneath his fingertips. Better yet, how soft would his skin feel against his tongue?

 _Motherfucker._ The fuck is going on with him?  _He's not fuckin’ gay._ Why is he thinking all this shit? _It must be the weed. Yep, definitely the weed. He's fuckin’ straight_. Mickey shakes his head and focuses back on their conversation.

“Why'd you come home?”

“That's a story for another time, Mick.”

Ian’s blood shot eyes linger on his lips and made Mickey's cheeks flush. He had the biggest smile that Mickey had ever seen; he looked so fuckin’ happy. No one smiled like that around Mickey. No one ever fuckin' looked at him the way Gallagher was looking at him and Mickey liked it alot. He never thought he could enjoy the company of another person, especially a dude. He leaned against Ian's shoulder, overwhelmed with the need to make some sort of connection. 

“Shotgun?” Ian asked, tipping his head to the side, quietly asking permission to move forward. Mickey didn't know what the fuck a shotgun was, but he nodded his head anyway. Ian pulled smoke into his mouth and leaned in closer. He wrapped his hand around the base of Mikey's neck and inched forward till his lips were hovering close to Mickey’s.They were both floating on top of a cloud; a hazy, THC infused, cloud of bliss and Mickey never wanted to come down. 

He could feel Ian's warm breath against his mouth and an internal battle raged inside Mickey’s head. He wanted to jerk away from the man's grasp, it was too fuckin’ weird. However, his body decided against it and he sat completely still while Ian blew smoke into his mouth. He sucked in the cloud of smoke and his heart flip flopped inside his chest. Ian's bottom lip brushed softly up against his and he gasp. Mickey pushed Ian away roughly and wiped his mouth aggressively with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. 

“Fuck! I told you no gay shit, Gallagher. What the fuck was that?” Mickey jumped up from the bed and raised his eyebrows angrily.  

“I'm sorry, I thought there was a moment where-”

Mickey couldn't hear anymore, “There was no fuckin’ moment. Fuck you, Gallagher.” He threw both his middle fingers up and hurried out of the bedroom, before Ian could respond. He needed to get far, far, away from the kid and his fuckin' mind altering weed. He covered the bulge in his pants and ran down the stairs and out of the Gallagher house as fast as he could.

Mickey’s heart returned to its normal pace as soon as he was safely inside his house. He tried to ignore the heaviness in his pants as he walked to his room and fell onto the bed face first. He groaned, replaying the image of Gallagher’s lips so fuckin’ close to his mouth. He contemplated what else Ian and his mouth could do. If just a brush of his lips made him felt like that, what would it feel like to actually _kiss_ him? What would his soft lips feel like surrounding his cock? How well could that mouth please him?

Mickey rolled over in bed and pulled his underware and pants off. His dripping cock sprung forward and he circled his hand around his thick shaft. He began stroking himself, reminiscing about what happened just moments ago. He thought about the redhead’s broad chest, his chiseled jaw, his fuckin’ muscular arms. “Oh, god.” He hissed, and his eyes rolled back as his hand twisted up and down on himself roughly. He quickened his pace and his hips leap off the bed as he shot long and hard into his hand.

He sank back against the bed and tried to collect his thoughts. Could good weed turn you gay? He's smoked a shit ton of weed and never once did it make him want to fuck a guy. There had to be some underlining reason why he was acting like this. He would never fuckin' admit it but, he had a crush on a seventeen year old boy; a fuckin' carrot top with freckles and alien-lookin' skin. 


	6. Baby, it's my birthday Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and the Gallagher’s celebrate Ian's 21st birthday.

“He's gonna fuckin’ hate it. This is lame,” Mickey’s eyes widened at the scene before him. He had left Fiona in charge of decorating the bar for Ian's birthday and apparently that had been a big fuckin’ mistake. There were green streamers and silver stars hanging from the ceiling of the Alibi. A homemade birthday banner hung crookedly above the bar and the bar top was covered in colorful confetti, with little golden twenty-ones. There was a small karaoke machine in the corner of the bar and a strobe light that illuminated the bar in different colors. He wanted everything to be perfect, but it looked like they were having a fuckin’ sweet sixteen party. The damn floor was covered in glitter for fucks sake. “The fuck is all this?” Mickey asked, gesturing his hands around the small bar.

“It looks cute. Ian is gonna love it.” Fiona said, with a confident smile. She was sitting at the bar, drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette.

“Cute?” He asked, wincing painfully at the word. He didn't want it to look cute. He wanted to throw Ian the rager of a twenty-first that he'd always dreamed of. He ran a hand over his face, growing even more frustrated from the sight of his black sneakers already covered in glitter.

“Stop worrying about it. He will love it either way, cause he loves you and you did all this for him.” She kicked the bar stool next to her, “Sit down, take a breath, and have a beer.” She recommended, trying to sooth the younger man's nerves.

It's not that he didn't appreciate her help. He was thankful that Fiona agreed to spend the better part of her Saturday decorating the stuffy bar. She was one of the only women besides Mandy, that he trusted and as crappy as he thought the bar looked, he still valued her input when it came to Ian.

“You heard from him today?” She asked with a twirl of her beer.

“He had to go to the job site. It's only for a half day. They're behind cause Tommy got fired and it's just a two man crew now.”

“Couple guys here the other night said you knocked him on his ass with one punch.” Kev said, placing a cold Bud light in front of Mickey.

“Fuck yeah,” Mickey took a swig of his beer and licked his lips, “Fat fuck deserved it.” He said calmly, clenching his fist to show off his bruised knuckles.

“He told me your sister is his boss now.” Fiona eyed him closely, quietly asking for more information without words.

“Yeah, she is.” He lit up a smoke trying to duck out of her questions. Fuckin’ Gallagher’s and all their pushy questions.

“Haven't seen Mandy since she lived with you and your dad over on Trumbull.”

The mention of Terry and their old house made him nauseous. He didn't want to talk about any of this shit. “Shot of Jack, now.” He tapped the bar top and curled his nose at the confetti that stuck to his sweaty palm. Kev placed a shot glass full of whisky in front of him and Mickey threw it back, barely making a face as the galling liquid ran down his throat.

“I know it's hard to talk about. You did the right thing Mick, you know, getting her outta there.”

“We're not talkin’ about this, not right now. Today is supposed to be about Ian, not opening up old wounds.”

“I just want you to know I haven't told Ian about it. I don't think he remembers her.”

“I said, we ain't talkin’ bout this shit.” His voice came out scratchy and much louder than he intended. Just when he was about to tell Fiona to fuck off, his phone chimed against the bar. He opened the phone and saw that his favorite red head sent him a picture message. He tilted the phone closer to his body and bit his bottom lip as he opened it.

Ian was standing in front of their bathroom mirror with the hem of his tee shirt clamped between his teeth, revealing an awe inspiring view of his toned six pack. His pants were unbuttoned and the waistband of his Calvin Klein's hung low and snug against his hip bones. He was looking at Mickey through the phone with eyes full of heat and promise, but what Mickey really yearned to see wasn't pictured.

“That Ian?” Fiona asked, pulling Mickey out of the trance he was in.

Mickey exited out of the picture and returned his phone to the bar. “Yeah.”

“I could tell. You got all smiley, it's cute,” She laughed, “I'm glad that he has you. I know things between us haven't always been ideal, but you make him happy.”

“You're cleaning up all this shit later right?” Kev asked, taking a long look around his confetti covered bar.

“I’ll fuckin’ clean it, don't worry.”

“I'm gonna go get ready. Thanks for the beer Mick, see you and birthday boy tonight. I'll bring the food by later.” Fiona rustled the top of Mickey’s black hair playfully and made a beeline for the door.

Leave it to Fiona to dip out at the brief mention of cleaning up. It would probably take him hours to sweep and clean the place up by himself. He would do it though, because it was Ian’s birthday and he would do anything to make the man happy.

* * *

When he got home he saw Ian's muddy boots by the door and a trail of discarded clothes leading to his bathroom. He could hear the shower running and the deep hum of his boyfriend's voice singing in the shower. He opened the door and stepped into the steamy bathroom.

“You got your shit slung everywhere, Gallagher.” Mickey yelled, trying to talk over the running water.

“Sorry, was covered in mud and shit. My bad.” Ian said, pulling the shower curtain to the side to peak at Mickey.

“How was your day?”

“Fucking bullshit. Mandy and Roger hate each other. And on top of dealing with that shit, I still haven't hired anyone. I got till the end of the week to hire ten guys.” Ian turned the water off and pulled the shower curtain back.

“Everything will-” Mickey’s voice wavered at the sight of Ian's naked body. “Everything will work out.” He said, unable to take his eyes off the water and steam rolling down the man's muscled body. Gallagher’s always been physically fit, but construction has been good to him. Every time he saw the man naked Mickey was fuckin’ awestruck.

Ian wrapped a towel around his waist and in one swift motion, stepped out of the shower and backed Mickey up against the counter. “You see something you like?”

“Yeah, but we gotta get ready for your party.” Mickey grinned, dropping his eyes to where Ian's hip bones dug into his. The heat radiating off the man's moistened skin seeped through the towel and set Mickey’s skin on fire. His cock immediately sprung to life and filled what little space was left between them. He circled his hips slowly against Ian and smirked when the man's jaw dropped.

“Kinda feels like you're ready now.” Ian was pressing his hips down harder, trying to get the brunette to respond. He wanted to hear Mickey’s sexy moans echoing off the walls of their bathroom. There was nothing more satisfying than those pink lips parting to moan his name.

Mickey yanked the towel and it dropped to Ian's feet. “Oops,” He said innocently, before grabbing a handful of Ian's wet hair and pressing their lips together. Ian immediately opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, slanting his lips and snaking his tongue across Mickey’s teeth. Mickey spun the red head around to take control and scrape his fingernails down the man's freckled back. The large bathroom mirror gave Mickey a perfect view of the red scratches already marking his skin.

“I want you.” Ian said, panting hot breath against Mickey's chin.

Those three words sent shivers down Mickey’s spine and he melted into Ian’s mouth. Their lips and fingers moved in perfect sync; groping, biting, and tasting every inch of skin they could get to. Ian untucks Mickeys shirt and his eager fingers slip underneath the soft material to hook in the waistband of his boxers. “I’ll be so good to your cock baby.” His voice was a teasing growl against Mickey's ear.He grabs Mickey's jean covered ass and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You're gonna be late to your own party,” Mickey said, still trying to be the voice of reason. In less than an hour the whole Gallagher clan and half the South Side would arrive at the Alibi expecting copious amounts of booze and Ian's presence. He lost all coherent thought and composure when Ian's hand moved inside his boxers and circled around his length. His mouth feel open as the redhead dropped to his knees and practically shoved his cock down his throat. “Ian,” Mickey hissed, feeling the wet mouth convulse around him. Ian pulled back and spit on his cock, coating the swollen head with a glob of spit. He twisted his fist around Mickey and began pumping the swollen muscle. With every upward stroke he circled his tongue around Mickey’s sensitive tip lapping up the juices from his leaking slit. 

The bathroom was the only place in his house they had yet to fuck in and apparently he's been fuckin’ missing out. He looked in the mirror again, loving the view of the back of his boyfriend's head bobbing up and down wildly on his cock.

“That feels really good.” Mickey praised, watching Gallagher manhandle his cock like a pro. His knees are shaking from pleasure and he has to grab onto the counter to maintain his balance. His lower stomach jerks rapidly as he teeters closer to orgasm.

“Don't hold back.” Ian said, pulling away long enough to take a gulp of air. He lived for Mickey’s sounds. When it was so good he can't form words and just moaned continuously in the back of his throat.

Mickey places his hand against Ian's scruffy cheek and admired the gorgeous man between his legs. He looked so sexy like this; on his knees, freckled cheeks stretching around his cock. This man was what wet dreams were made of. How the fuck did he get so fuckin' lucky? Ian takes him in deep and Mickey nearly peaks. “Ah..shit..fuck yes..” He held Ian's head in place and thrust into his mouth again and again. When his balls tightened and he couldnt hold back any longer, Mickey fisted Ian’s red hair and thrust deep into his mouth. He came hard down the back of Ian's throat, his tattooed fingers gripping the base of Ian's head, desperate to keep him in place. “Suck it baby...keep it there. Oh, fuck.” Ian swallowed around him, taking every last drop Mickey could offer. When his body was done shaking he released Ian's head and pulled him up from the floor. Ian wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and placed a quick kiss against Mickey’s lips.

“You're so goddamn breath taking,” Mickey panted, his body still reeling from the intensity of his orgasm. “And please, put some clothes on. We're really fuckin' late.” He stuck his tongue out at the redhead and left him to finish getting ready.

* * *

 

They were only half an hour late and Mickey was glad no one made a big deal about it. All the Gallaghers were there, except the younger children. Ian’s dad Frank was already half lit from the looks of it. Mickey wasted no time and marched straight over to Fiona, “I thought we agreed no Frank. The fuck Fi?”

“This is his favorite bar and he said wanted to be here for Ian.” Fiona said, stirring a crock pot filled with cheese dip.

Mickey knew Frank didn't give a fuck about Ian's birthday. He was only there for the free food and beer. Frank and Terry could probably go head to head in a battle for worst father, but Terry would likely win. As much of a deadbeat Frank was, at least he accepted his children for who they were, faults and all.

“You and I both know that's bullshit. Since when does he-”

“Baby, it's okay.” Ian said, pulling on the edge of his sleeve.

“He better not start any shit or I’m gonna throw his ass out in the fuckin’ street.”

“You did all this for me?” Ian ask, leaning in to kiss Mickey. Right before their lips connected, Mickey turned his cheek.

“I'm sorry, man. Fiona helped me and she made everything really girlie and I didn't know she was gonna do that.” He rambled on, trying to find a way to explain the mess they were standing around. He also feared Gallagher noticed the way he had recoiled away from his kiss. In a large crowd of people, his old habits always seemed to resurface.

“I love it, thank you.” He grabbed Mikey's hand and placed a lingering kiss against his bruised knuckles. If the man wouldn't let him kiss his lips, he'd improvise.

“I need a shot, do you need a shot?” Mickey asked, grabbing Ian by the hand and dragging him to the bar.

After a few shots Mickey felt himself relax. Ian's friend Roger showed up with his twink and they were grinding to some rap music Fiona was playing. He watched Ian move through the crowd, chatting up the whole room. Gallagher wasn't afraid to talk to anyone. He never met a stranger and Mickey wished he had just an ounce of the man's confidence.

Fiona sat down next to Mickey at the bar and slung her arm across his shoulders. “Told ya he would love it. You know I brought that karaoke machine for a reason.” Her cheeks were flushed and she was giggling against his shoulder.

“Seriously? I'm not fuckin’ singing.”

“No, but you should say something. There's a microphone. You could at least say happy birthday to Ian,” Mickey gave her a dirty look and she withdrew her arm, “Okay, well then sit at the bar by yourself.”

Two shots of whiskey and half a pack of Marlboros later, Mickey stood up and approached the pool tables in the center of the room. He was almost too drunk to walk, but he needed the extra push that only the alcohol could provide. He brought a shot of whiskey with him, for good measure. He slapped his palm against the green table, gathering everyone's attention. He didn't need a fuckin’ microphone.

“So listen up. I'm not really good at all this shit but, whatever. This is the third birthday I've spent with Gallagher and I've had the pleasure of watching this little shit grow into a man. He's got a big heart and never lets anything get in the way of him achieving his goals. He works hard, he's trustworthy, and he's got a fuckin’ bangin’ body. He's my family, my lover, and my best friend. Happy Birthday Gallagher, this one's for you baby.” Mickey swallowed the shot in one gulp and everyone around him started clapping.

As soon as Mickey finished the shot Ian was standing in front of him. He was smiling from ear to ear and wrapping his hands around Mickey’s neck. “That was sweet.” Ian said, pulling him into a kiss.

Mickey was no longer worried about kissing Ian in a room full of people. He relaxed into his kiss, and rolled his tongue inside Ian's mouth. The redhead tasted like pineapple and vodka and it mixed perfectly inside their open mouths. The music changed to a slower song and Ian hummed inside mouth.

“Dance with me.” Ian requested, separating their lips.

“You know I can't dance.”

“Mick, everyone can dance.”

“No fuckin’ way Gallagher.” Mickey turned to walk away but Ian grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back against his chest.

“C’mon Baby, it's my birthday.” He insisted, sticking his thumbs through the loops of Mickey’s jeans. He pulled Mickey’s hips back and grinded slowly against his plump ass.

“Fuck you and your birthday, man.” Mickey teased, laughing loudly at the awkwardness of it all. He felt like he looked silly. Who considered this dancing? It was more like dry humping to be honest, but oddly enough, Mickey was starting to like it. Ian continued guiding Mickey’s hips against him and by the chorus Mickey was bouncing his ass back with enthusiasm. Mickey closed his eyes and let the beat of the music and the moment take over. He was so blissfully happy; tangled up in Gallaghers lanky arms, dancing in a crowded bar in the Southside. So far August 16th was the highlight of Mickey’s year.


	7. Broken Memories Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey thinks about Mandy and how much he hates his father. He tries and fails to stay away from Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts right after Ian's 17th birthday party. Next chapter will be set in the present where Ian will find out the truth about Mandy. Fiona steps in and attempts to help the two siblings reconnect.
> 
> Warning: Mention of sexual abuse and smoking marijuana.

After Ian's seventeen birthday, Mickey tried to avoid the kid at all costs. It should have been fairly easily for him, but every time he left the house he managed to cross paths with the red head. He was leaving the Kash and Grab when Gallagher ran into him the first time. He literally ran into Mickey, nearly knocking both of them down in the process.

“Fuckin’ watch where you're going asshole,” Mickey spat, as he tried to regain his footing. He spun around with a clenched fist, ready to punch whoever the fuck barreled into him. He turned around he saw it was just Ian, with his green eyes as wide as saucers. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, wearing a tank top and jogging shorts. His iPod was tucked inside the waistband of his shorts and loud music blared through his earbuds. The little shit didn't even hear him speak. Mickey dropped his fist and jerked the ear buds from Ian's ears.“The fuck is wrong with you?” Mickey ask, shoving his hand against Ian's ribs.

“I’m sorry Mick, didn't see you there.”

“Its Wednesday, shouldn't you be in school or some shit? And who the fuck you think you are calling me that?” Mickey bellowed, trying his best to sound abrasive. Anyone else would have ran from him but, the kid stood his ground. He was so unaffected by Mickey’s tone that he laughed. This fuckin’ kid was going to be the death of him.

“I skipped.” Ian said, while running in place.

“Oh. Well take a look at you Gallagher, breaking all the rules.” Mickey sarcastically rose his eyebrows and watched a bead of sweat roll down Ian's jugular. There was something so hot about seeing Ian's lean body glistening with sweat. He bit his lip and tried to hold back his smile. Why did he feel floaty and nauseous under the younger boy's eyes? And why was he always smiling now? _Fuck_.

Ian opened his mouth to speak, but Mickey pushed passed him and continued walking down the street. He decided it was best for both of them if he just kept to himself. He wasn't ready to deal with all the answers to his questions, not today. He returned to the Milkovich house, dead set on never looking at the ginger again.

The next day Mickey and Iggy returned home after doing their father’s work. Before Mickey entered the dark house he saw Ian jogging down the sidewalk. He ran past the front of Mickey’s house and waved. The kid had some balls, he’d give him that, but if Ian knew what was best for him he'd stay away. Luckily, Iggy didn't see the redhead’s gesture or, the way Mickey’s eyes lingered on his ass when he ran past them.

Mickey and Iggy entered the house and threw the day's money on the coffee table next to their dad. Terry was sound asleep snoring into the couch cushions and both boys went their separate ways. Terry could count that shit later.

Mickey grabbed a beer and went straight to his room to avoid talking to Iggy. Things haven't been the same between them since Mandy left partly because, he still held Iggy responsible for the shit that happened. He strummed different chords on his guitar and tried to forget about Ian and how shitty his life was. He wished for happiness; that one day he'd finally be able to feel _free_.

All the Milkovich kids had to earn their keep to live in the house. They sold drugs for their father and Terry was a stickler when it came to their deals. The shit he made them sell was overpriced and the quality was absolute shit. Mickey was forced to hustle everyday to make money. He hated it, but at least he was good at it. The boys returned home every day with a rubber band stack of bills. Terry would count that shit at the kitchen table; thumbing through the money slowly, making sure it was all there. Mickey always joked that Terry didn't know how to count and that's why he made him and Ig do his drug deals for him. Sure,Terry was intimidating and a little scary but, he was as dumb as a box of rocks.

Even with his poor Math skills, Terry always knew when the stack was short and Mickey had learned that the hard way. When he was a Freshman in High school he took ten dollars from the cut to buy himself lunch and Terry beat the shit out of him for it. He beat Mickey so badly he missed two weeks of school. That wasn't the first or, last beating he would receive at the hands of his abusive father.

Mickey wasn't the only Milkovich that Terry took his anger out on. Iggy also had a rough way to go and Mandy, well, she endured a pain entirely different than the boys did. With the exception of Mickey, the Milkovich kids shared the same black hair and brown eyes; all features they inherited from their deceased mother. However, Mandy favored their mother the most and when Terry was drunk he often confused Mandy for his late wife.

Terry would later blame his sexual misconduct with Mandy on the liquor but, Mickey knew the truth. Terry Milkovich was just a sick bastard that used his kids for his own selfish needs.

The sexual abuse went on for about a year before Mandy told anyone about it. She broke down sobbing in Mickey's arms and he held her close. He promised Mandy he would never let their father touch her again but, the damage had already been done. Mandy became pregnant at the young age of fourteen, with her father's baby.

The night he found out Mandy was pregnant, Mickey bought a gun. He wanted to give his sister the justice she deserved and put the fuck six feet under. He can remember pointing the gun at Terry's head; he was passed out on the couch, just like today, but Mickey couldn't do it. He's done some shady shit but, he's no murderer. It was his job to protect his little sister and he couldn't do that behind bars. Mickey chose to do the right thing and get Mandy as far away from their father that he could. He called his aunt in Indiana and had Mandy on a train within the next week. Saying goodbye to her was the hardest thing he's ever had to do.

It's been two years since he told Mandy goodbye and it still hurt. He called to check on her once a month and she was doing really well. She got her GED and was enrolled in community college. His aunt was helping take care of her and her two year old son, Gage. She sounded so happy when they talked on the phone and Mickey couldn't help but feel a little jealous. She got a fresh start; a new beginning. And he was still stuck in Chicago, selling drugs for Terry, going nowhere. The house was lonley without Mandy, but the best decision he ever made was getting her the hell away from the Milkovich house of horrors.

One day he'd move out of his dad's house and get out of the Southside. He would probably die doing it, but this wasn't the life he wanted for himself. He knew if he continued dealing for Terry he'd end up in a jail cell and he was way too young for that shit. He just didn't know how he was going to get out yet. 

The next day Mickey awoke from a loud knock at the front door. He walked to the door in his underwear and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. He cracked open the door and curled his lip when he noticed it was Gallagher, again. Just like yesterday the red head was barely dressed and covered in sweat. Was he doing this shit on purpose?

“You must have a death wish Gallagher.” Mickey groaned, squinting his eyes at the harsh sunlight behind Ian.

“I got some new stuff. I figured I could come over and smoke you out, if you want.” Ian smiled and motioned toward his pocket.

“Not a good idea. Don't ever come here, you fuckin’ hear me?” Mickey warned, trying not to raise his voice above a whisper.

Because of Frank Gallagher’s big mouth, most of the people that frequented the Alibi knew Ian was gay. All it took was a pitcher of beer to get old man Frank started on his troubles and family problems. Countless times Terry had come home from the bar bitching about how big of a queer Ian was and, how he'd kill Mickey if he turned out like that. If his dad caught him talking to the ginger he would suffer the consequences.

“Yeah, Mick. I'm sorry.”

And just like that, Ian turned around and stepped off his porch. He was at the end of the walkway when Mickey called out to him “I'll meet you at your place in fifteen minutes.”

Mickey walked back to his room and searched for clean clothes to wear. He picked several pieces of clothing off the floor; sniffing them to check their level of cleanliness. He rummaged through the pile of clothes and finally found a sweater that didn't smell bad. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and look himself over. Why did it matter how he looked or, what he smelled like? He shook his head at his reflection in the mirror, silently chastising himself for the way he was behaving. He was just gonna go to a friend's house and get stoned. Nothing major. Iggy did that shit all the time.

Mickey stood on the Gallagher porch, looking and smelling better than he probably should have. He was way too excited to see the kid and smoke his strong weed. He knocked on the door and looked around to see if anyone on the street was watching him. If his dad found out he was hanging out with a Gallagher, Mickey would never hear the end of it. The front door swung open and Mickey’s eyes were blessed with a shirtless Ian.

Mickey took a step inside and quickly shut the door behind him. “What the hell are you doing?” He asked, tilting his head to get a better view of the kids muscles. Mickey reminded himself that Ian was only seventeen. He keeps forgetting that shit.

“Sorry, just give me a second.” Ian said, before running up the stairs and disappearing. Mickey wasn't invited up so he stood awkwardly in the foyer, waiting for Ian to return.

The Gallagher house was empty and that was really fuckin’ weird. A minute later, the redhead ran down the stairs with a green bong in his right hand and a bag of weed in the other. Thankfully he'd put a shirt on and his chest was covered.

“Fiona know you been skipping school everyday?” Mickey ask, tilting his head to look into the kitchen. There wasn't another Gallagher in sight. Thank god.

“Why do you care what Fiona knows? Ian sat down on the couch and started packing the bong.

“Don't really give two shits about what your sister knows.” Mickey grumbled and set down next to Ian.

The bong bubbled as Ian sucked smoke into the chamber. He pulled the carb out of the bong and inhaled the thick cloud of smoke, clearing the chamber completely. He held in the hit flawlessly; another point for Gallagher, the jack of all trades. He lifted his chin and exhaled, aiming the smoke up towards the ceiling and away from Mickey. Was there anything this kid couldn't do?

“If I knew you smoked, I would have talked to you way more.” Mickey mused, grabbing the green bong from Ian to take his hit.

“This stuff isn't as strong as last time,” Ian lit himself a cigarette and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “You know, the night of my party when you ran off without saying shit to me.”

“You kissed me and shit was awkward. You were acting fuckin' weird.” Mickey said, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“It was my mistake, I'm sorry.” Ian closed his eyes, and lowered his voice, “Sorry not sorry.”

“You gonna smoke or, are you gonna let me smoke this shit by myself?” Mickey said, bumping Ian's arm with the green bong. The kid was mumbling some shit under his breath and pretending to sleep. What the fuck did he just say? “Hey, sleeping beauty, wake the fuck up.”

“That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Mick.” Ian opened his eyes and stared at Mickey for a long moment before grabbing the bong.

"Don't get used to it."

Three hours pass, and his ass stayed glued to that fuckin’ couch. His high is different from the last time; he doesn't feel uncomfortable or, nervous he just feels happy. They laugh and listen to Ian's dad's old cds. Frank Gallagher was a fan of classic rock and his taste in music was actually pretty fuckin’ sweet. They smoke weed and cigarettes while Gallagher talks. Mickey just nods and listens, cause he's not there yet. He's afraid to reveal himself, even in the empty house with the giggly redhead, he feels afraid. Afraid of exposing his thoughts, his wants, his needs. Maybe in the future he will get there but, not today.

“So, what's up with the knuckle tats?” Ian says, staring at Mickey’s fingers stretched out against his jeans.

“Sixteen year old Mickey went to the Southside scratcher and got his first tattoo.”

“The fuck is a scratcher?”

“You know, tattoo guy with his own set up in his kitchen?”

“You got a tattoo in some guy's kitchen?”

“I just fuckin’ said that shithead,” Mickey laughed, clenching his fist to admire his knuckles. The thick blue letters spelling out Fuck-u-up in old script style font. “There's a few spots where he pressed too deep, fuckin’ douchbag.” He scoffed at the memory and held his breath when Ian took his hand and placed it inside his palm. He traced the letters with his index finger nice and slow, paying close attention to the specific curve of each letter. The tiny hairs on Mickey’s arm stood up and goosebumps marked his pale arms.

“I always wanted a tattoo but, Fiona would freak out. Would you go with me?” Ian ask, moving his fingers up Mickey’s wrist.

“Not taking you to a scratcher for your first tat. Learn from my mistakes. A tattoo shouldn't be a spur of the moment idea, you should get something meaningful,” Mickey pulls his hand away from Gallagher and took a big rip from the bong. He didn't have the air to clear the chamber and coughed loudly against his shoulder When he looks at Ian again there are tears rolling down his cheeks and the kid is giggling.

“Can't handle the hit, Mick?”

“Oh, I can handle the fuckin’ hit,” Mickey said, attempting the bong once more. He could feel the kids eyes on him as his lips circled the bong. There was a small part of Mickey that wanted to impress Gallagher and hear his words of praise. He held the smoke in for much longer than needed and this time he didn't cough. He sat the bong on the coffee table and turned to Ian with a huge smile, “Fuck you Gallagher, told you I could handle it.”

“I bet you can handle a lot of things.” Ian quipped, passing his smoke off to Mickey.

Mickey stood up and stretched his arms over his head, “Better get the hell outta here before my dad starts lookin’ for me.”

“Yeah, you better go before I get all fucking weird,” Ian chuckled, “You gonna come visit me more now?”

“See you tomorrow Gallagher and you better get your ass in school. I don't wanna see you jogging outside my house at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn, okay.”

“Yeah, sure, school...blah blah.” Ian said, waving him goodbye.

Mickey walked back to his house, fuckin’ high as a kite, reeling from the combination of freckled fingers and marijuana. Maybe tomorrow he'd be able to say it.


	8. Broken Memories Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiona steps in to try and reconnect Mickey and Mandy. Mickey lets it all out and Mandy hears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this is told in Ian's Pov. If you're still reading this please comment and tell me what you think. The Mickey/Mandy thing will be resolved shortly. This isn't the best chapter, but I needed to get an update in.

Sunday's were Ian's favorite day of the week. It was the only day he took off from work and could fully relax. He lounged around the house naked, turned his phone off, and put all the stress from work on the back burner. He could sleep in as late as he wanted, uninterrupted by early morning alarms and phone calls. He didn't have to leave the comfort of his pillow top mattress to take a shower or, make himself coffee. And the best part of the whole damn day, was being able to snuggle up against Mickey’s warm body without having to rush off to work.

Ian cherished these lazy Sunday mornings with Mickey. He would admire the man while he slept, tracing his fingertips along perfectly pale skin, immersing himself in the man's warmth and soft skin. He would press his lips against the base of Mickey’s neck, allowing the heady scent of sex and scented body wash to overwhelm his senses. He reviled in this sensual contact; flesh against flesh, lips against skin. He wants to wake up like this everyday. He wants this forever.

“We gotta go see Fi today. She's freaking out about your dad, guess he's been missing. She invited us over to eat dinner.” Mickey said, thumbing through the missed texts on his phone.

“It's Sunday,” Ian groaned, leaning over Mickey’s shoulder to look at the phone inches from his face. “Frank's fine, he's like a cockroach; not even a nuclear bomb could wipe him out. And I'm not finished with you.” He pressed his lips into Mickey's shoulder and slid his hand down Mickey’s thigh slowly, showing the man what he would miss out on if they left.

“How are you still horny? You've got off two fuckin’ times in the past hour.”

“Mmmm,” Ian nods his head and bends Mickey’s leg across his stomach, lining him up into a very practiced position. Mickey was now spread open, at a perfect angle, “Working on the third right now baby.” Ian slid his cock in without any resistance and moaned against Mickey’s neck. He enjoyed the slick push and pull as Mickey’s body accepted all of him. He sucked and bit on the man's pouty lips, lacing his fingers in his thick black hair and deepening the kiss.

“Fuck, Ian,” Mickey breaks the kiss and pushes himself back, feeling the redhead's hard hip bones dig into the flesh on both sides of his ass. Ian grabs his leg and lifts it higher, filling him up with as much of his cock as he could take.

Once Ian's body is sated and Mickey found release, Ian walked to the bathroom on shaky legs, hearing the familiar flick of the lighter as Mickey lit up a cigarette. He takes a long shower; allowing the hot water to run over his face and soothe his achy muscles.

He tries to ignore the stress associated with work and the unanswered questions he has about Mandy. The woman was still a mystery to him and he was unsure about how to bring the situation up to Mickey. It was hard for him to understand their relationship, or lack thereof.

Ian was impossibly close to all of his siblings. He couldn't imagine going years without seeing them, or talking to them. And the fact that Mickey was unable, or unwilling, to share these personal details with him was confusing. Why didn't Mickey want him to know about his sister? They had been together for four years and Mickey was still reluctant to open up. He knew Mickey would eventually get to the point of being able to tell him everything, but waiting it out was tiring. There had to be a way to get the two Milkovich's back on good terms. He made it a personal goal to repair the broken brother sister relationship.

* * *

 

Little did Ian know Fiona was already planning to do the same thing.

“You ready for this shit?” Ian ask, walking Mickey up the stairs to his childhood home. He could already hear the loud noises and music coming from inside the house already full of people. Apparently Fiona failed to mention she was having a party.

“Thought we were just gonna fuckin’ eat dinner. Sounds like she's invited the whole Southside over to party.” Mickey shoved his hands inside his jeans and hesitated in front of the wooden door.

“Guess that means she isn't worried about Frank anymore,” Ian grinned nudging Mickey’s shoulder with his, “How bad could it be?”

“Who the hell parties on Sunday?” Mickey thumbed his nose and debated on turning around and walking back home. Maybe he should have stayed in bed with Gallagher.

“Gallaghers.” Ian says simply, placing his hand against the small of Mickey’s back and leading him inside.

“Fuckin’ Gallaghers.” Mickey mumbles, as they walk inside the Gallagher house.

An hour later Ian finds himself sitting around the kitchen table, feeling a mellow buzz from the beer in his hand. He was surrounded with good company and the alcohol was working to evaporate his stress and numb his face. Most of the people had already left but Kevin, V and the rest of his siblings stuck around drinking and playing games. Even Mickey seemed to be having a good time. That was more than likely due to the joint that Lip smoked with him soon after they arrived. They had asked Ian to join, but he declined. There was no way he was going to risk failing a drug test at work. He had his beer and he was content with it.

Since this was the first time Mickey had smoked in months, it literally fucked him up. He was sitting next to Ian, eyes as red as his boyfriend's hair, with a cheesy grin plastered on his face.

“You got smashed off one joint.” Ian teased, circling his hand around the base of Mickey’s neck. He ran his fingers through the soft hair against Mickey’s neck and watched as the man melted into his touch.

“Would like to be smashed in other ways,” Mickey sucked his bottom lip and watched as Ian circled his lips around the beer bottle and took a long drink. “Damn, Gallagher.”

“That can be arranged,” Ian brushed his fingers against Mickey’s jaw, “God, you're so fucking beautiful.” Mickey’s face immediately reddened from the complement and he leaned forward to capture the redhead’s lips.

“You two get enough to eat?” Fiona walked up behind them, causing both men to separate slightly.

“Food was great Fi, Thanks.” Ian said, tilting his head to look up at his older sister.

“He okay?” Fiona’s eyes widened as she looked Mickey over.

“Yeah, he's a fucking lightweight now. A few hits and he's smashed,” Ian teased, his laughter grew louder when Mickey punched him in the shoulder, “What?”

“I can still kick your ass, Gallagher.”

“Oh, Yeah? The only ass that's gonna get a beating tonight is yours, my love.”

“Fuck off,” It usually made Mickey uncomfortable when Ian said shit like that but, in the moment it was endearing. “Even stoned I could beat your ass.”

“Wanna try me?” Ian sat his beer down on the table and tilted his head, egging the man on.

“Before you two start fighting or fucking, I got something to say,” Fiona pressed, receiving confused glances from the two men, “I invited Mandy over. She's supposed to show up, and I don't want to hear any bullshit outta either one of you,” Her face softened as her brown eyes met Mickey’s, “She's your sister Mick. She's a part of this family, just like you are.”

“So this is you, fuckin’ worming your way in my shit again, like I told you not to. How many times I gotta tell you I don't wanna deal with it Fiona?” Mickey’s smile quickly turned into a scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Whatever happened between you two, you need to get over it. She's Ian's boss for Christ sake, you can't avoid her forever. She is back and you need to be a man and deal with the shit. If you don't do it for yourself, do it for Ian. He's the one who has to work with her every day and he doesn't even know what-”

“Watch it,” Mickey cut her off, lowering his voice in warning.

“Wait, Fiona knows what's going on and I don't?” Ian jumped right in the middle of the heated argument, “What happened Fiona?” He felt a little hurt that Mickey confided in his sister and not him.

Mickey lit a cigarette and took a few hits, waiting for Fiona to spill everything to Ian. It's not like it was such a big fuckin’ secret. He'd always planned on telling Ian but, not like this. Fiona Gallagher was a fuckin’ buzz kill, “You know what, it's okay. If she shows up I won't say a fuckin’ word, how bout that? We can all sit around the table and pretend we're one big happy family. The Gallagher’s and the Milkovich’s, modern day fuckin’ Brady Bunch. You can meet my little brother and nephew! And we can all try and ignore the fact that he's a product of incest and the last Milkovich Terry fathered before he died. Thank God that man's fuckin’ dead.”

“Mickey? Ian?”

The three of them turned to see Mandy Milkovich standing in the middle of the living room. Her face was red and her cheeks were wet. A small boy stood beside her with pale skin, raven hair, and blue eyes. The kid raised his hand and waved at them politely. No one knew how long she'd been standing there, but the look of hurt on her face spoke volumes.


	9. The Rebel, The Lost, The Lovesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey goes on his first date with Ian, but it's not a fuckin' date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set in the past.

With each passing month it became harder for Mickey to ignore who he was and, who he was becoming.The more time he spent with Ian Gallagher, the deeper he seemed to fall. It was painfully obvious that he was physically attracted to the redhead, and he couldn't deny they shared a special connection. He was plagued with thoughts of Ian day and night. He couldn't concentrate on shit, could barley eat, and the worst part was not being able to fuckin' sleep. He wondered how many men had fallen for Gallagher’s charm and good looks? Did they all come running back for just one more taste? Did the ginger taste as sweet as he looked? Mickey found that no matter how hard he tried to stay away, he always went back.

Those fuzzy feelings that started the night of Ian's birthday party, only intensified as fall transitioned into winter. Mickey could no longer get hard for the girl down the street he used to casually bang. He was no longer attracted to the images of big breasted beauties with round asses pictured in Iggy’s dirty magazines; something that used to always do it for him. Instead, he found himself more often than not, fantasizing about muscular men with sharp features and red hair. Just thinking about Ian's body hovering over him, his green eyes peering through fallen scarlet tresses, made Mickey painfully hard. He was finally able to admit he was gay. He wasn't ready to shout it from the roof tops but, it was an accomplishment anyway.

It had been three months since the teenager kissed him and he had failed to make a move since. Of course, Mickey didn't make it easy for him. Most of the time he treated the kid like crap; calling him names and giving him shit about the way he dressed. The kid took all of his shit and gave it back to him ten times over. He was the only one who ever challenged Mickey, maybe that's why he felt so drawn to him. He pushed Mickey to see and feel things differently and sometimes he pushed too hard. Gallagher had all these fuckin’ questions. Questions that he couldn't handle the answers to.

They disagreed on just about everything. When they weren't getting high or, playing Call Of Duty, they were fighting. They had heated arguments over the most trivial topics. The most recent fight they'd had regarded Ian's decision to drop out of Highschool. Since Ian was absent most of his Junior year, he was held back and forced to repeat the grade over. Because the Gallagher family was hard up for money and two months behind on the mortgage, Ian thought it would be a better idea to quit school and get a job. Although Mickey could relate to the situation, he still argued against it. Last night they had a screaming match in the alley behind the Gallagher house. They yelled till their chests heaved, and their voices were raw. When the tension finally evaporated, Mickey had almost lost himself. Overwhelmed with both anger and lust, he grabbed the redhead by the collar of his jacket and pulled him close. Two sets of eyes focused on pink lips and cold cheeks and just before their mouths could touch, Mickey squeezed the redhead's ticklish stomach and sprinted down the alley.

* * *

Mickey had a daily routine. He would get up around noon and make the rounds with Iggy. They'd be finished around two and then it was off to the Kash and Grab for a pack of smokes and a forty. Normally, around four-thirty, he'd be leaving to go see Ian. Today it was well past five and he was still standing in front of the bathroom mirror giving himself a mental pep talk.

_He probably doesn't want you. It's been three months, surely if he was still interested he'd make a move. He is going to make a fuckin' move right? What if he has a boyfriend? How can he have a boyfriend when he spends all his time with you? Don't stare at him. Don't fuckin' kiss him. Don't touch him._

Mickey repeated the message, willing himself to keep it together. He was still trying to get over the way his body reacted when Ian was around. And his voice, his fuckin’ voice, sometimes gave Mickey goosebumps. No woman had ever made him respond like that. He was pulled away from his thoughts when his brother Iggy barged through the bathroom door.

“The fuckin’ door was shut bitch. Ever heard of knocking?”

Iggy leaned against the door frame and took a bite of the sandwich in his hand. “You going on a date?”

“Hell no.” Mickey crossed his arms and looked away from his brother. He was just going to eat dinner, while sitting next to Ian. Everyone's gotta eat. He wasn't sure what they were doing, but at no point had the word ‘date’ come up.

Iggy looked him up and down, “You bought a new shirt and pants?” Iggy leaned closer and sniffed the air around Mickey, “And you smell good too. You're going on a fuckin’ date.”

Mickey took a step toward the taller Milkovich and pointed his finger in his face, “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut. No need getting the old man started. Don't feel like dealing with his shit tonight.”

“Terry’s not here. He's getting everything ready for our trip up state. We're leaving tonight, won't be back for two days.” Iggy said, loudly chewing a mouthful of food.

“Two days, huh?” Mickey ask, with a raise of his eyebrow. Two fuckin’ days with no Terry or Iggy. He would have the whole house to himself. Freedom.

“Yeah, old man needs to re-up. Strapped for cash this week, all we got is beer and bologna sandwiches. I love bologna sandwiches.” Iggy took a huge bite of his sandwich and chewed with enthusiasm.

“The fuck is wrong with you? Get the fuck outta here.” Mickey curled his nose up in disgust and attempted to shut the door in Iggy’s face. The toe of his boot caught the door and Mickey sighed, “What the fuck do you want Iggy? I got plans.”

“You still got that ruger? The 9 mm?”

Mickey pulled the door open, “Yeah, why the fuck you askin?”

“Not going upstate, on a drug run without a gun. Duh, stupid.” Iggy said, shoving the last little bit of bread into his mouth.

“Use your own fuckin’ pistol. You got two fuckin’ hands, isn't that enough?”

“Oh, come on. I'll buy it from you. Give you a hundred for it.” Iggy dug around inside his pocket and produced a wrinkled up one hundred dollar bill and handed it out to Mickey.

“Thought you were broke?” Mickey grabbed the bill and narrowed his eyes at his older brother. He knew Iggy didn't like packing a gun when he went through town. It was already nerve wracking enough carrying drugs around in the pockets of his baggy jeans. “It's in my room,” Mickey walked down the hall to his room and Iggy followed along. He lifted the mattress off his bed and retrieved the black hand gun. Before handing it off to Iggy, Mickey checked to make sure the safety was still on. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I know how to shoot it already.” Iggy replied with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“Not that. You ever been in love before?” Mickey chewed on the inside of his lip, ignoring the shocked expression that immediately followed his question.

“You're in love? It's Gallagher ain't it? Isn't he like seventeen?” Iggy snorted, visually amused at how fast he had put it all together.

“In Eight months he'll be eighteen.” Mickey clarified, as if saying it aloud would make it seem better.

“So you're not denying it? You love him?”

“I don't know, maybe?”

“It doesn't matter to me who you fuck. Be careful, wouldn't want Terry to find out about it but, it's all the same to me. Thanks.” Iggy glanced at the gun before shoving it deep inside his jean pocket and shuffling his feet down the hall. Iggy had left Mickey speechless. It amazed him that his older brother wasn't influenced by the homophobia and hate Terry spread through the Milkovich household. Mickey took one last look at himself in the bathroom mirror before walking out. He grabbed his coat and gloves off the couch and headed out to brave the cold weather. He lit up a Marlboro and trudged through the snow covered street toward Homan Avenue.

As soon as Mickey entered the Gallagher house he was confronted by Ian's oldest sister Fiona. He's had maybe two conversations with the woman, but he could already tell she hated him. Everyone was so quick to judge; having tattooed knuckles and being the son of Terry Milkovich did Mickey no favors. Most people living in Canaryville hated the Milkovich’s and, they loathed the Gallagher’s just as much; so who fuckin' cares.

Miss Fiona Gallagher had been his toughest critic thus far and it entertained him. When he'd come over she would sit on the couch with furrowed brows and eyes full of concern. Like he was some wolf coming over to steal her baby. She thought he was the reason Ian wanted to drop out of Highschool. She also blamed him for Ian’s rebellious behavior and every other bad decision the kid had made over the past few months. At first she had tried to forbid Ian from seeing Mickey, but that didnt go as planned. The kid would just fuckin' lie or, sneak out to see him. After weeks of fighting Fiona decided to let Mickey come around again and it was means for celebration. Tonight's the first fuckin' night all week that the kid's been allowed out with him.

“He's never been like this before. Skipping school, smoking weed, staying out all hours of the night with you.”

“How is any of this shit my problem?” Mickey said, looking around the room for even the slightest shade of red.

“I'm not letting him drop out. He will get the fucking diploma, even if I have to force him to do it.”

“You graduate Fiona? You even make it past Freshman year?” Mickey challenged, with a sarcastic grin. “We were in the same class, remember.”

Before Fiona could continue her rant and look of disapointment, Ian stomped down the stairs. His face immediately lit up as he locked eyes with Mickey. “New shirt Mick?”

Mickey instantly regretted wearing the grey button down shirt. Why was everyone going on about the way he dressed all of a sudden? He decided to respond with a question of his own. “When you gonna get a fuckin’ hair cut?”

Ian flipped him off and ran both hands through his unruly red hair. His hair was much longer than Mickey had ever saw it. Any time the taller boy looked down at him pieces of red hair fell in his eyes. It was both sexy and distracting for Mickey to witness and he hoped the kid never cut his damn hair again.

“You ready?” Ian asked, grabbing his coat and sticking his arms through the sleeves.

“It's nasty out. About five inches of snow on the street.”

“Where are you two going?” Fiona chimed in.

Mickey had almost forgotten she was still standing there.

“I don't know, be back later.” Ian said, a cigarette already dangling from his lips. He covered his head with a thick black beanie and held the door open for Mickey.

“You know she hates me, right.” Mickey said, as they walked down the steps of the porch.

“Thought you didn't give two shits about what my sister thought?” Ian grinned and took off running down the street, trying to slide his feet across the frozen sidewalk.

Mickey’s lived in Chicago his whole life and had adjusted to the harsh winter weather. It was freezing outside, his sneakers were moist and buried deep in the snow, but he paid it no attention. He watched Ian play in the snow like a little kid, spinning around in circles and collecting snowflakes inside his mouth. Mickey was thankful for the bad weather, because that meant there wouldn't be a lot of people dining at Sizzlers tonight. Seeing the way Iggy had reacted made Mickey hopeful. Maybe he could do this. Tonight Mickey had questions, and he hoped Ian had answers.

“You make a decision on the school shit yet? What you're gonna fuckin’ do?”

Ian picked up a handful of snow and began molding it into a snowball.

“Better fuckin’ not Gallagher,” Mickey said, a light laugh breaking through his warning.

“What you gonna do about it tough guy?” Ian asked before he launched the ball of snow at Mickey's head and took off running down the street.

Mickey dodged the snowball and chased after Ian. This kid had him running through the Back Of the Yards in the middle of the fuckin' snow, laughing. It really was the simple things that made him happy these days.

* * *

 

 

After a long walk in the snow Mickey was freezing, and fuckin’ starving. He was happy to find the restaurant empty, just as he thought it would be. It's not that he's embarrassed or ashamed to be seen with Ian, because he got over that shit a long time ago. The kid was like a beacon; always attracting unwanted attention from both women and men alike. Anytime Mickey went out in public with him there was always a slimy old bastard, or flirty cunt trying to sink their claws in the kid. In the beginning it hadn't bothered Mickey, but now, it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to contain the rage that surfaced when someone tried to procure what was his. _His_. The ginger sitting across from him, who ordered a fuckin’ salad at a steakhouse.

“How are you even eating that right now?” Ian questioned, watching as Mickey cut a bloody slab of sirloin into bite size chunks on his plate.

Mickey stabbed his fork into a piece of steak and returned to the shocked eyes sitting across from him, “I eat it like this.” He took the bite and made a satisfied hum in the back of his throat as he chewed the meat.  It had been so long since he had had a good steak and it was fuckin’ magical.

“You’re gross.” Ian replied, taking a sip of his soda.

“What's gross is you, missing out on all this meat.” Mickey wiggled his eyebrows, “Thought you were into that sorta thing.”

“Fuck off,” Ian said, grabbing a dinner roll from the basket and throwing it at Mickey’s face.

“No wonder you're so skinny,” Mickey took another bite and pointed his fork toward Ian, “You eat more protein and you'll bulk up quick.”

“I'm skinny?” Ian questioned, looking down at his plate of food that was half the size of Mickey’s.

“Well, yeah. I mean you're fast and shit, but you're small,” Mickey stabbed a piece of meat and raised the fork toward Ian’s mouth, “C'mon man, just try it.”

“Fuck no, get that shit outta my face,” Ian pulled back from the blood soaked meat and glared at Mickey, “Don't like steak.”

“Who doesn't like steak? Just fuckin’ try it. If you don't like it you can tell me to fuck off, how bout’ that?” Mickey smiled and leaned closer, reaching his fork closer to Ian’s mouth. He's never fed someone, or even offered to share his food with anyone. Progress.

Ian hesitated, “If I try it, you gotta try something for me,” He tilted his head and grinned; a silent gesture confirming impure intentions, “If you don't like it you can tell me to fuck off.” Ian said, imitating Mickey's voice.

“Fine, eat your fuckin’ salad Gallagher,” Mickey mumbled, returning his attention back to his dinner.

They spent the rest of dinner in silence while Mickey racked his brain for things to talk about.  They usually strayed away from talking about their personal lives and family, cause that shit made them fight. Everything Mickey wanted to say flashed in his mind, but his voice wouldn't work. The question of ‘is this a date-or not’ weighed heavy in the air around them. Mickey had to know. Call it first date jitters, or nerves but he was fuckin’ shook.

When the waitress brought over the bill Mickey breathed a sigh of relief. He was ready to escape the restaurant and ease his nerves. He craved a cigarette and the blunt he knew Ian had rolled in his jeans. He liked Ian sober and, when he was high he liked him even more. The smoke always helped eased Mickey’s worries and made it easier for him to talk.

Ian looked down at the bill and laughed, “Forty five dollars for this shit?”

Mickey picked the yellow piece of paper off the table and examined it closely. Sure enough, two cokes, a salad, and a twelve ounce sirloin came up to exactly forty five dollars. “Eating steak aint’ cheap.”

“Fuck it. You wanna just ditch?”

“The fuck you mean?” Mickey said, swiping a hand over his mouth as he sat back in the booth.

“Like run outta here without paying. My parents do this shit all the time,” Ian leaned forward and whispered, “I'll get up first, you wait a minute, and then you get up and leave. I’ll meet you around back.”

Before Mickey could stop him, Ian slid out from the booth and walked out the entrance doors. Mickey had learned a few things tonight; he's not the only one with fucked up parents and this little streak of rebellion Ian was going through had reached it's peak. The kid fuckin’ left him there and it went right through him. Instead of skipping out on the bill, Mickey pays the lady and marches outside to confront the asshole. This was not how this night was supposed to go. He didn't spend thirty dollars on a new shirt and jeans for nothin’. _This was so not a fuckin’ date._

When he finds Ian out back, his anger was boiling over. Ian was leaning against the brick building smoking a cigarette, looking smug and fuckin’ smiling like a kid on Christmas. It was sexy and fuckin’ annoying as hell. Mickey stepped up to Ian, fisted his hands inside the pockets of his jacket and slammed his back against the building roughly.

“You wanna tell me what that shit was back there?” Mickey ask, breathing heavy.

“Mick, chill the fuck out. It's fun. I thought you would like it.” Ian chuckled, unaffected by Mickey’s force.

“That was not fuckin’ fun. The fuck is wrong with you?” The kid's smile never wavers and Mickey wants to smack him in the face. “What's going on with you?”

“When I ran away you wanna know who came looking me for me Mick?” Ian questioned, narrowing his eyes, “No one. No one fucking cared that I left, or if I was alright. I was gone for six months before Lip came looking for me.”

Finally, he had gained a real response and it was much harder for Mickey to hear than he thought it would be. Mickey took a deep breath, “It's the Southside; every family has their sob story.”

“You're a fucking drug dealer.” Ian says sarcastically, matching Mickey’s anger from before. He tried to move away but Mickey’s grip only tightened further around his coat.

“And you're a little shit. Wanting to drop out of school, playing dine and ditch at restaurants,hanging out with drug dealers. You sure I'm not in this vendetta you got goin against your family?” Mickey ask, thinking maybe this had all been a fuckin’ joke. Was this kid playing with him? The thought fuckin’ hurt his feelings.

“Fuck off Mickey.” Ian gasp as two strong hands released him and moved up to circle around his face.

“No. Tell me. Right now, what the fuck was this tonight?” Mickey asked, his thumbs digging in softly at the edges of Ian's jaw.

“What's gonna happen if I don't tell you? You gonna hit me? Or are you gonna kiss me? Last night, you were gonna to kiss me.” Ian said confidently, knowing how much it would rock the older man.

“Kiss you?”

“Hit me or, kiss me Mickey. Which one?”

“Why would I kiss you?”

“Because you like me and you're gay.”

“Say that shit again and I'll knock your fuckin’ teeth out.” Mickey gritted out, still holding the kid's face. He moves in closer until his body is pressed against Ian’s, holding him in place against the cold brick building.

“You're hard; I can feel you. You were hard last night too and that night I kissed you. You want me.”

As much as Mickey hated it, the kid was right. Even with the cold air swirling around them, warm heat spread throughout Mickey’s body. His swollen cock strained against the inside of his jeans and he desperately wanted to rut himself against Ian. All the blood in his body was rushing to his groin, making it difficult for him to think clearly. Maybe it was the anger, or the close proximity that made his body respond like this.

“You got a fuckin’ smart ass mouth. Even if and that's a really big if, I fuckin’ wanted you, you're only seventeen.”

“Who cares how old I am. I want you, and you want me. I've been waiting for this for months,” Ian smiled and slid both of his arms through Mickey's unzipped coat, “Hit me or kiss me Mickey.”

Mickey darted his eyes back and forth between Ian's green eyes and soft lips. The timing was shit and everything leading up to this moment had been completely fucked but, Ian's hands felt so good around his waist. He's surrounded in Ian's warmth and doing everything he had told himself not to do. It felt so wrong but, it felt so right. So fuckin’ right.

Mickey took in a shuddering breath and leaned up to press their cold lips together. The kiss was short and when Mickey pulls back he instantly craves more. He wants to slick his tongue across those perfect lips. He wants to grab that red hair and kiss the kid untill he's breathless and whimpering.

“Oh, my god.” Mickey gasps, and shoves himself away from Ian. He fumbles through the pockets of his coat, blindly searching for his smokes.

“Oh my god is fucking right,” Ian drags his thumb across his bottom lip, “I know you felt that too.”

“You proud of yourself? Huh? I told you, you're too fuckin’ young. And,” Mickey pointed between them, “There's no way this can ever work. That was a fuckin’ mistake. You were saying stupid shit and I...I just...fuck, Ian.” Mickey sighed, finally pulling out his Marlboros and lighting up a smoke.

“The age thing is just a fucking excuse. You're scared. You're terrified because, for once in your life you're feeling something. You know, and I know, this is real. Deny it all you want but, I see the way you look at me. You can't fake that. When you're ready, you know where I am.” Ian said, adjusting his coat and walking away.

There is so much Mickey wants to say. _Don't go. Dont walk away. I just need time._ Instead, he takes a hit off his cigarette and lets the kid walk away. He doesn't move from his spot until the filter from the cigarette burns his fingers.

 


	10. Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This picks back up in the present right where chapter 8 left off.

_The three of them turned to see Mandy Milkovich standing in the middle of the living room. Her face was red and her cheeks were wet. A small boy stood beside her with pale skin, raven hair, and blue eyes. The kid raised his hand and waved at them politely. No one knew how long she'd been standing there, but the look of hurt on her face spoke volumes._

Before Mickey can speak Mandy grabbed the little boys hand and turned around to leave.

“What the hell.” Mickey said jumping up from his seat and hurrying over to stop Mandy before she left. She's halfway out the door when he calls out to her, “Wait, Mandy please. I didn't mean it.”

“I thought it would be different. I shouldn't have come here.”

“Please stay.” Mickey reaches his hand out with a smile, “We got beer and Fiona made a bunch of food. Ian said you guys had a rough week, c’mon Mands,” He looks down at the little boy at her side, “Hey kid, how's it going?”

The little boy looks at his mother and Mandy nods her head, “My mom says you're my uncle. What's your name?” His toothy smile widens when Mickey reaches out and ruffles his black hair.

“Your ma is right; I am your uncle,” Mickey reaches his fist out, prompting the kid to bump his fist, “My name is Mickey.”

Gage eyes his knuckles curiously, before bumping their fists together. “Your fingers say bad words.” He peaks his head around Mickey to watch the other kids sitting on the couch playing video games.

Mickey gives his sister an apologetic look, “No they don't.”

“He's eight Mickey, he can read.” Mandy added sarcastically.

Mickey shoves his hand inside the pocket of his jeans, “You like playing video games Gage?”

“He's not allowed to play video games. Too much violence.”

Mickey huffed out a laugh, “It's just Need for Speed.He's a boy for fucks sake.”

“Please mom, can I?” Gage pleaded, pulling at the hem of Mandy’s shirt.

Mandy nods her head and Gage runs into the house, plopping down onto the couch next to Ian's youngest sister Debbie. Instead of walking inside Mandy lingers on the porch, lighting up a smoke. Mickey shuts the door and steps out onto the porch with her.

“Hey, can I get one of those off you? Ian has my smokes inside.”

“I'll give you one if you promise to set down and talk to me. I went by dad's old place lookin for you, but the place looks abandoned now.” Mandy reached Mickey a cigarette and her lighter.

“I moved out, got my own place now. It's a couple blocks away, not the best but, I fuckin’ own it. Since when do you fuckin smoke?” Mickey asks, smiling around the cigarette between his lips. When they were younger Mandy had given him so much shit about how disgusting the habit was and here she was years later smoking.

Mandy sits down in the top step of the porch and motions for Mickey to sit next to her. “I had quit smoking for a year and then when Richard died I picked it back up.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't know he passed away.”

“He had stage two pancreatic cancer and when we found out it was too late,” She took a shaky breath, her brown eyes focused on the street in front of them, “He refused treatment and spent his last month's making sure everything was in order. He left me this construction company, and I have no fuckin’ clue what I'm fuckin’ doing Mick.” She said pressing the her palms against her eyes.

“Mandy you're fuckin’ doing great. This town is flourishing because of you. You went to school for this. You got this.” Mickey assured, placing his arm around her shoulders. He hated seeing Mandy crying and stressed out.

“Richard did most of the work. I come back home after eight years and everything is so fuckin’ different. You don't want to see me. Iggy’s in jail. It's a lot to handle.” She leans into Mickey's chest and a small sob escapes her lips.

“After dad died you quit answering my calls. When I got out of jail, I called and begged you to come home, but you had Richard and Gage. If I remember correctly you're exact words were, ‘The Southside is no place for a kid.’ Mickey reminded her of the simple sentence that still stung when he said it aloud.

“I thought you were still selling drugs. I thought that this was a bad place for Gage. You can't hold that shit against me Mick. He's my son and I wanted to protect him.”

“You think I wouldn't have been able to protect you? I would have dropped all that shit for you and Gage. He's my brother, I deserved to be in his life. You shouldn't have kept him from me. I'm not Terry.”

Mickey wants so badly to yell at her. He wants to scream about how much she hurt him. How he never got to see Gage when he was a little baby or got to watch him grow. Wants to tell her how shitty he felt when she didn't write him back when he was in jail, but he doesn't. He has years worth of pent up anger and hurt directed toward his little sister, but she's the only family he has now and maybe, Fiona was right. He needed to be a man and get over this shit. Leave the past in the past and move forward.  

“When I was in jail, I thought about you every goddamn day. The only thing that got me through it was Ian and I was too fuckin’ ashamed to tell him what was wrong. I should have done more to protect you. I should have been the one who killed Terry.”

“Mickey I don't blame you for what happened. There's nothing you could have done. I was scared of coming back...seeing that house...remembering everything he did. I'm so fuckin’ sorry. I love you big brother.” Mandy hugged him tightly and tears started welling up in Mickey’s eyes. It's like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he could finally breathe again. This guilt and pain he's carried around all these years was finally gone.

“So, you and my Foreman huh?” Mandy says, pulling back to look Mickey in the eyes, “He's somethin’ else ain't he? Pretty easy on the eyes too.” She laughs and wipes her wet cheeks.

“Gallagher’s a good man. One of the best dudes around here.” Mickey nods, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“When he told me you guys were together I almost didn't believe him.”

“He told you we were together?”

“The first day we were on the job site together he told me he's been living with you for three years. He wouldn't shut up about you. He's got it in his head that we're best friends now or some shit.” Mandy smiles, bumping her shoulder against Mickey’s.

“He's a persistent motherfucker ain't he?”

“He's completely head over heels in love with you.”

“Sometimes it doesn't feel real. Like I don't deserve to be this happy.” Mickey says, biting at the inside of his cheek.

Their conversation is interrupted when Ian opens the door and steps out onto the porch, “I see no one's dead.” Ian says, looking down at the pair.

“Fuck off Gallagher.” Mandy and Mickey speak in unison and Ian groaned loudly.

Ian wiggles his way between Mandy and Mickey so he can sit between them, “You both love me and you fucking know it.” Ian grins and throws his arms around the two of them, pulling them close.

Everything had managed to work out and Mickey felt a sense of peace wash over him. He's came a long way from where he used to be and he was doing better every day. There are so many good things in his life; he had Mandy and Gage back and with Ian at his side he could get through anything. Blessings kept falling in his lap and this life, his life, was not something to take for granted.

Mickey looked up into the sky, the sound of Gallagher and Mandy's voices echoing in his ears as he thanked whoever was up there watching out for him.

_Thank you._


	11. Candlelit Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the past. Mickey gives in and tells Ian how he feels. Lots of kissing and some arguing as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated recently. This is a rushed chapter with tons of dialogue. I'm going to go back and edit over it so please ignore the mistakes. This chapter got away from me and I'm thinking I'll need to add another chapter to finish up. So here's a smut filled chapter with some fluff!

Mickey had reached a pivotal moment in his life and this is where it had lead him. He was walking down Holman Avenue in the middle of a fuckin’ blizzard, trying to sort shit out. It was after midnight and two hours after the disaster that had been his ‘date’ with Ian. The kid had wanted him to make a fool of himself; spill his feelings out into the air like some bitch. As much as he hated Ian's ultimatum, it was the final push he needed.

Mickey tossed a trio of rocks up at the teenager's window before a pebble ricocheted off the glass. After a few seconds the blinds shot up and a very pissed off redhead looked down in the street at him. Mickey grinned and stretched his arms out, beckoning Ian to come outside. Mickey’s hands were shaking and it wasn't because of the fuckin’ weather. He lit up a smoke and studied the kid through the window. His hair was wild and fell in layers across his forehead, his green eyes tired and confused. He abruptly closed the blinds and Mickey kicked a mound of snow impatiently waiting for Ian to come outside.

A moment later, Ian walked out the front door swathed in a thick knitted afghan, wearing an old pair of tattered sneakers. He quickly descended the stairs giving Mickey an annoyed look, “The fuck you doing out here? You must be freezing.” Ian said, shivering underneath the blanket.

Mickey was oblivious to the cold and all he could feel was his heart pounding rapidly against his chest.

“You okay Mick?” Ian questioned, trying to fill the awkward silence with his rambles,“I'm sorry about tonight. I can give you some money. Don't have anything now, but I-”

Mickey interrupted, “Just fuckin’ let me speak for a second, okay? Can you do that for me?” Ian nodded his head, "You know what you were saying about you runnin’ away and your family not lookin’ for you? I woulda gone to every shit hole in Chicago lookin’ for your skinny ass. Woulda thrown you over my shoulder and drug your ass back home, where you belong.”

“You didn't know I existed until four months ago. ”

“That what you think?” Mickey laughed, “I remembered your fuckin’ birthday. It was no accident that I came to your house that night. I wanted to see you,” His voice lowered, “I wouldn't have forgotten about you.” Mickey moved closer, twisting his finger through a loop of the blanket, “You are different than these kids around here. You got potential Gallagher, and you're fuckin’ wasting it. The Southside does that; we get so used to living like shit that we go numb. We start believing this is how it's always gonna be.”

“You get that out of a magazine at the Kash n Grab?” Ian asked giggling.

“I'm trying to be serious here,” Mickey poked him in the chest, “I been trying to find a way to say this all week and when you act like a douche I just wanna smash your face in.”

“Okay, I'm listening.” Ian folded his lips together, trying to hold back a smile. Mickey opened his mouth to speak and Ian lost it.  

“Okay, fuck you man. Forget it,” Mickey turned his back to leave, but stopped when Ian reached out to him.

“I'm trying not to laugh, I never seen you like this before.”

“I never felt like this before. Everything you said was true. I don't know what we're doing here, but want to keep spending time with you. I wanna hear your shitty jokes. I wanna kick your ass in Mario Kart. I want to hear you mess up the lyrics to every damn song on the fuckin’ radio and, I wanna stay up all night just listening to your voice.” Mickey said nervously gnawing on his chapped bottom lip.

“C’mere, Mick,” Ian opened the blanket and pulled Mickey against his chest. He threw the blanket around both their bodies and held Mickey close.

Mickey’s chest tightened as he looked Ian over. He's never looked more beautiful than in this moment; snowflakes pepper and moisten the tips of his wild locks, his nose and cheeks flushed bright crimson, those emerald eyes lit up and glowing underneath the light of the streetlamp. The kid's pink lips inch closer and Mickey forces his eyes shut and holds back a breath.

When their lips touch Mickey feels that same spark of electricity from before. A tingle creeps up his spine and his stomach pools with desire. The kiss is slow and sensual. Their tongues coil between open mouths, teeth nibble and suck on tender lips and cold hands explored warm bodies. Ian tasted just as sweet as he had imagined and _fuck_ why haven't they been doing this all along? They both pulled back gasping for air, high off natural endorphins.

“A couple of months ago you wouldn't have let me touch you like this,” Ian brushed their cold noses together, the steam from his breath warm against Mickey’s face, “You really wanna be with me?”

Mickey nodded, “I wanna keep doing this.” He cradled Ian's face and kissed him softly.

“What're we going to do about your dad and Fiona?”

“When he gets home I'm telling him. No more drugs, no more stealing. If they can't be happy for us then fuck em'.

“You're really serious?”

“I don't want to end up like him. Locked up over some dumb shit, eating slop off a tray, and miserable. I want more than that and it fuckin’ scares the hell outta me. Always though that's how I'd end up; I had accepted it really, but then I fell for this stupid kid from the Southside and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get this fucker outta my head. You're stuck in my head man, the fuck can I do?” Mickey pats Ian's cheek, his thumb moving against his jaw, feeling the soft peach fuzz beginning to form there.

“Mick, you're..” Ian picked Mickey up and spun them around in circles. He drops Mickey back down on the pavement, with an elated smile. “You're my boyfriend?” He's says it like a question, because he's not sure how Mickey will react.

“That's fuckin’ cheesy as hell Gallagher,” He shoves Ian's shoulder and his smile grows, “I could be down for that.” Ian is his fuckin’ boyfriend and damn, that had a nice ring to it.

Ian takes a deep breath and calls out into crisp night air, “I'm in love with the sexiest thug in Chicago!”

“You're gonna wake the whole neighborhood up bitch.” Mickey giggled and moved his hands up the slope of Ian's back, feeling the muscles move under his palms.

Mickey’s mind is absent. He's not thinking about how much shit he's getting himself into. He's not thinking about the age difference. Butterflies are dancing inside his stomach and he fuckin’ loves it. Being free and open with Ian is exhilarating and he wishes he could bottle this feeling up and make it last forever.

“Come inside with me,” Ian nods toward the house, lowering his mouth to whisper in Mickey's ear, “I'll keep you warm.”

“I gotta watch the house. Iggy and dad left on a drug run, won't be back for two days.”  

“You gonna invite me over Mick?” Ian said stealing a quick kiss.

“I don't wanna jump into anything Gallagher. This shit is confusing.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Ian bites his lip and Mickey’s knees weaken.

Would he be able to control himself when they were alone? His mind conjured up dirty images of himself stripping Ian's clothes off piece by piece, while his mouth devoured that freckled body like chocolate.

Ian gave him a goofy look and Mickey shook away from the thoughts, “Don't know why you're so fuckin’ happy. Your pants are staying on Gallagher.” MIckey says more for himself.

When they stumble into Mickey’s house it's dark, cold, and completely empty. Mickey had never invited someone over to his house before, especially not someone who he was physically attracted to. He was embarrassed by the state of his house. Let's be real here, the place was a fuckin’ dive and he could barely afford to pay half the rent to live there.

Mickey flipped the lights on and quickly moved around the room tidying up and clearing the coffee table of empty beer cans and drug paraphernalia. He kicked his dad's dirty underwear underneath the couch and grabbed two beers from the fridge. Ian plopped down on the couch and pulled a bag of weed and rolling papers from his pocket.

“All we got is beer, sorry man.” Mickey sat a beer in front of Ian and joined him on the couch. He watches as the kid breaks up a bud and sprinkles it into a folded paper. “You ever feel like quitting?”

“Quitting what?” Ian ask rolling the joint between his fingers and slicking his tongue down the middle of the paper, “Weed? Why would I wanna do that?”

“Figured since youre gonna drop out you'd need to find a good job. No place around here is gonna hire you if you're dirty.”

“Fiona's already signed the papers. A guy down at Patsy’s said there's this club downtown called the Fairy Tale, they hire minors all the time,” Ian paused to spark up the joint and take a hit, “He said they'd hire me on the spot.” He said, while thick smoke lingered inside his open mouth.

“That's a fuckin’ twink bar Gallagher. No one goes there to drink,” Mickey grabs the joint and takes a puff and on the exhale it dawns on him, “You ain't fuckin’ dancing for money Ian. What the fuck!”

“It's good money. I could easily bring home six hundred dollars a night. Come the fuck on Mick. That's good money. So what if I have to dance for a couple hours. They're not allowed touch me. You can check it out if you're so fucking worried.”

Mickey blinked several times and took another calming hit from the joint. He had to fight the urge to smack Ian in the back of the head.

“No. Absolutely not. You're not fuckin’ working there.”

“Says who?”

“Flip burgers at McDonald's for all I give a shit, but you're not fuckin’ working there. I'll kill a motherfucker for touching you. You hear me?” Mickey raises his eyebrows and grabs Ian's hand to show how serious he is. The thought of Ian dancing barely clothed on a platform for a group of men pissed him off. If the kid was gonna dance half naked, it had better be for one person and that was him.

“So what's the plan here Mick? You gonna tell me what I can and can't do now? You know how bad I need the money. I never judged you for selling drugs. You're such a fucking hypocrite sometimes.”

“No more bullshit Gallagher. If we are gonna do this, we're doin’ it right. Grow the fuck up and stop being a punk ass kid. Finish school, get your shit straight and find a good job, man. If not for me, do it for yourself. Please.”

“If it's that simple, why don't you do that? Why do you care so much anyway?” Ian tilts his head, eyes locking with Mickey’s.

“Don't want you ending up like this.” Mickey motions around them, “Keep doing the shit you're doing and this is what you have to look forward to. I'm not gonna apologize for fuckin’ caring about you. It's my job to fuckin’ look out for you, even if you don't want me to.”

“I never asked you to look out for me. I don't need you to save me Mickey,” Ian scoffs, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. “Can't we just smoke and chill? I don't wanna fight.”

“Maybe I was just hoping that-” Before Mickey can finish the light flickers and everything goes dark. “Guess Iggy didn't pay the damn electric bill this month.”

Mickey walks into the kitchen and grabs a handful of tea light candles from underneath the sink. He begins spacing them through out the living room, trying his best to light up the dark space.

“Candles? You trying to seduce me baby?” The words fall from Ian's lips and Mickey’s shoulders tense.

_Baby_

“We been together for less than an hour and you're already starting your shit.” Mickey reached a hand behind him flipping Ian off.

Once all the candles are lit Mickey takes his spot back on the couch and grabs the joint from Ian's fingertips. The kid is stoned now and all signs of anger have completely left his face. Mickey knows what comes next. He shifts awkwardly, trying to put a bit of distance between their bodies. “Prolly best if you sleep at your place tonight. I don't have any food or power, it's gonna get cold in here real quick.”

“Not leaving. No more talking” Ian maneuvers his body so that he can straddle Mickey. He kisses a line down Mikey's throat and begins sucking a mark into the pale skin below the brunette's ear.

The roach slips through Mickey’s fingers as the kid ravages his neck. Mickey clenches his fists against the couch, trying to resist. Ian begins twisting his hips, and Mickey crumbles. He grabs the ass in his lap and observes the large erection straining against the denim of Ian's jeans. God had blessed Ian Gallagher with a huge cock and although it was a bit intimidating, Mickey pushed on. 

“You never give up do you? Fuck, you're fuckin’ huge,” Mickey says, groaning as Ian continued rubbing his cock against him. He wraps his hands around Ian's head and pulls him into a sloppy kiss. Mickey is so fuckin’ turned on he can barley breathe. He sucks on Ian's tongue and whines when Ian pulls away to remove his shirt. Ian takes his hands and places them on his chest, his nipples hardening underneath Mickey’s hands. He moans and throws his head back as Mickey pinches and caresses the swollen buds between his index finger and thumb. “God, you're so fuckin’ sexy.” Mickey's hands exolore Ian's taunt stomach, his skin like fire underneath Mickey’s fingertips. Ian rocks forward and Mickey’s quickly losing what little willpower he has left to say no. His hands still against Ian's belt, “You sure you want this?”

“Yes. I want this. Need you to touch me. Please.” Ian begged unbuckling his belt with urgency. The the zipper burst open almost immediately as Mickey traced the elastic of his briefs.

Mickey dips his fingers under the waistband and moans upon discovering freshly shaven skin. Ian's skin is soft and silky under his fingers and Mickey slips down further to grab onto his ample cock. The angle is weird and he has to twist his wrist awkwardly to stroke him.

“Take your fuckin’ pants off.” Mickey almost doesn't recognize his own voice, but he's too far gone and horny to be bothered by it.  

“This your first time?” Ian asks, raising up from the couch to pull his jeans down.

“What makes you think I'm a virgin Gallagher?” 

Mickey’s eyes widen when the denim and boxer briefs pool around Ian's ankles. The twinkling light from the candles does not do Ian's cock justice. A cock like that needed to be worshipped; preferably in the light, where Mickey could study every vein and curvature of the muscle. Mickey lowered to his knees and kissed along the creamy skin of Ian's hips. He sucked and bit at the warm flesh and dipped his tongue inside Ian's belly button. “Ah, fuck Gallagher.” Mickey’s voice cracks and his hand wanders down to stroke himself. Suddenly the room is too hot. He's sweating and Ian's skin is on fire, as he sucks dime sized hickeys into the skin of his lower stomach. Mickey watches the candlelight dance across Ian's skin and tries not to come in his pants. 

Mickey licks down Ian's stomach, stopping just before the base of his dripping cock. He began stroking Ian slowly, and boldly circled his tongue around the head to get a taste. Ian's hands gripped his hair tightly and his whole body slumped florward. The action wasn't nearly as bad as Mickey had thought it would be. The taste wasn't pleasant by any means, but it wasn't bad either. Mickey pushed onward, growing more confident from the moans and gasps coming from above him. He stuck the tip between his lips and sucked Ian into his mouth.

“Suck that big cock with that pretty mouth. Just like that.” Ian praised looking down at him.

Mickey was a little nervous but Ian seemed to like what he was doing so he proceeded sucking and licking up and down his length. Ian's legs shook as Mickey separated his lips and thrust his mouth down as far as he could go. He feels Ian's cock pulsating in the back of his throat and he pulls back for a breath. Mickey strokes the swollen muscle inside his cupped palm and plants wet kisses against the inside of Ian's thighs.

“I'm not gonna last if you keep going-oh shit baby.” Ian's body jerks forward as Mickey picked up the pace, twisting his wrist quickly. Ian's body jerks again, this time his mouth falls open and a long list of curses fall from his lips. 

Just when the kid starts cumming Mickey hears the loud rumble of a car pulling up in front of his house. He immediately recognizes the sound of the shitty muffler and squeaky belt. It was his father's 97’ Ford Camry and he was _fucked_.


	12. The Other Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present time. Next chapter will be in the past and will cover what happens with Terry.

Mickey had not given much thought to the risks associated with Ian's job. Actually, until today he had believed the man was invincible.

His body jerks awake, covered in slick sweat. He gasps and reaches for his comfort, his rock, his other half. He can't breathe, can't fill his lungs up with enough air. His hands are shaking, anxious, trembling. He swipes a calming hand across his face as images of the nightmare resurface. He's standing in front of Terry, his fat ass fingers are wrapped around Ian's throat and he's squeezing the life out of him. Ian’s face is turning blue and Mickey beats his fist against his father's back, begging, pleading, crying. He shakes his head, finally able to catch a full breath of air. His hands are still shaking as grabs for his cigarette pack on the nightstand. The Marlboro is strong and burns his throat at first but, it's a good burn.

He runs a hand through his sweat soaked hair, lips holding the cigarette safely in the corner of his mouth. He squints and angles his face away from the line of smoke trailing into his eyes as he reaches for his phone. There is a long list of text messages, voicemails, and missed calls. His thumb effortlessly skims across the screen, eyes searching for the only name and number that matters. Ian's morning text isn't there and he checks two more times just to be sure. He sees a chain of texts from Mandy and his heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

Mandy- (10:00am) He's refusing to go to the hospital. I need your help Mickey.

Mandy- (10:10am) MICKEY ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE

Mandy: (10:12am) Waiting for the ambulance to get here. He hates me. Answer your phone shithead

Mandy- (10:32am) Mercy Hospital off of 25th street, he's pissed off at me.

Mandy- (12:02pm) Where the fuck are you?

He smashes the cigarette into the ashtray, checking the time at top of his phone. 1:45. He doesn't text back, doesn't call back. All he can think about is getting to that damn hospital as fast as possible. He blindly grabs a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt off the floor and quickly pulls them on. His hands shake slightly as he shoves his phone and smokes deep in his pockets. His body is on autopilot, his mind somewhere else. He slips his feet into black sneakers, grabs his keys, and runs out the door. He can't think, can't stop moving his feet against the pavement. He boards the train, sweatshirt tight around his waist, a comforting smell invading his nostrils. Ian.

He thinks over all the horrible things that could've happened to Ian. He knows the answers are hidden deep in the voicemail section of his phone, but he can't listen yet. Maybe he doesn't want to believe it's true, maybe he wants to hold onto the thought that Ian is still invincible. No matter what happened, Ian was a fuckin’ fighter. He was okay. He had to fuckin’ be okay.

The train is full and Mickey gets stuck elbow deep in the middle of a fuckin’ swarm of people. It's a fourteen minute train ride to Mercy Hospital and he braces himself against the cool window as the train whips across the tracks. There's a lady standing next to him bouncing a crying baby against her hip. Mickey watches the kid's face, slobber dripping from his wailing mouth. The mother speaks softly, trying to soothe the unhappy gremlin. The train goes around a corner and Mickey’s body involuntarily tilts toward the pair. His shoulder bumps against the woman and before Mickey can call out an apology, the baby turns it's head to look at him. A small hand with chubby fingers reaches out toward his face and the crying finally stops. The kid looks at him through brown almond shaped eyes, there's a tiny sniffle and then a smile. Mickey smiles at the baby and sticks his tongue out. The baby giggles and it's so fuckin’ cute it makes him laugh.

_You'd be a great dad, Mick._

He hears Ian's voice inside his head and it is only now, in this moment, that he truly believes it. He makes a silent promise to reconsider children and the family that Ian wants.

“He likes you.” The mother says with a smile.

Mickey nods his head and turns to look out the window. Fourteen minutes. Fourteen of the longest, panic inducing, minutes of his life.

He runs through the open emergency doors, breathing heavy. He doesn't stop running till he reaches the front desk. He places his hands on his knees, chest heaving and slumped forward while he catches his breath.

“Sir, can I help you?” A nurse wearing a blue uniform leans over the counter addressing him, “Sir, are you okay?”

“Ian,” gulp of air, “Gallagher.” Mickey gasps, wincing from the burning sensation inside his chest. 

“Are you Mr. Gallagher’s immediate family?” Her forehead crinkles as she looks him over. Her eyes skim over his tattooed knuckles before giving him a disgusted look.

Mickey straightens up and licks his lips. He assumes he's not the first person to come running into the emergency room, but this bitch-woman must not understand the amount of fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“I'm his friend,” The woman narrows her eyes, “Partner, lover, family.” Mickey clarifies, growing irritated.

“He's down the hall, room 212.”

“Thank you.” He says, giving Susan or, whatever the fuck her name is an over exaggerated smile.

Mickey pulls himself together and starts down the hall, reading the blue numbers against the doors. He walks into room 212 and there's Mandy; she's sitting in a plush chair, reading a magazine next to a hospital bed.

“The fucks goin’ on? Where's Ian? What happened?” He asks, looking around the room for the other half of his heart.

“They're taking X Rays to see if anything is broken,” Mandy's face twists in anger, “I fuckin’ called you ten times. What the fuck Mickey.”

“Phone was on silent,” He swipes a hand across his mouth, guilt boiling inside his stomach.

“He..” Her chin trembles and tears begin filling up her blue eyes, “We were working inside this shithole of a building, he was busting an old wall down with a sledgehammer and,” She pauses to take a breath, “The flooring was unstable. He knocked the wall down and fell through the floor. It was a fifteen foot drop. Mickey I-”

“You knew the floor was unstable and you let him continue working?” His chest puffed out, anger welling up his body like molten lava. His vision blurs as tears brim his blue eyes.

“In these old buildings it's hard to tell. Most of them weren't built correctly. Every floor, every wall could go at any minute.”

“It's your job to protect him! You're the fuckin’ boss Mandy! It's your fuckin' job to keep him safe!” He screams the words and he doesn't care if it hurts her. It's her fault. All of this is her fuckin’ fault. "Was he asking for me? Is he okay? I should have been there."

"He didn't wanna to go to the hospital. He was trying to get up, but I made him lie still till the ambulance got there. He was talkin' crazy, in and out of it. When they loaded him into the ambulance he grabbed my hand and told me he was scared. There's more,” She says as tears slide down her cheeks, “He wasn't wearing his hard hat. They think he might have hurt his neck.” She lets out a small sob, “Mickey, I'm so sorry.”

“You better hope he's fuckin' okay,” He points a shaky hand out, his voice shaky. “I can't even be in here right now. My fuckin’ heart.” He clutches his chest; feeling a ghost of emotion,a stab and ache, like a painful knife splitting through his chest. He feels Mandy's arms surround him, pulling him closer. He's crying and she's holding him, grounding him to the floor. “S’not your fault Mandy.” He says, burrying his face into her shoulder, letting it all out; every tremor, every sob, every bit of sadness.

_How was he supposed to live without the other half of his heart?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that happy ending tag? Still true. Don't worry.


	13. Southside Made Motherfucker

Before Mickey could warn Ian, the front door swung open and a clumsy Milkovich rushed in. Mickey leaned back against the couch and prepared himself for the onslaught. Ian frantically began pulling his pants up, his wide eyes searching Mickey’s face for comfort.

“What the fuck!” Iggy grumbled, shielding his eyes from the sight of Ian’s bare ass. “You brought him here?”

Once Mickey realized it was just Iggy, and only Iggy, he sighed and leaned his head back against the couch in relief, "Fuckin’ get in here and shut the fuckin’ door! What's wrong with you?” Iggy slams the door shut and a gust of wind blows through the living room.

"The fuck is all this?” Iggy nods toward the flickering candles, “Shit Mickey, I woulda called if I knew you guys were…” Iggy scratched the back of his head nervously, “There were some problems.” He walked over to the window and moved the heavy blanket over to look outside.

“What kind of problems? Where the fuck is Terry?” Mickey asked, noticing his brothers odd behavior. He saw Ian out of the corner of his eye, fully clothed and lacing his sneakers up.

“You know he's been ripping us off? All these years we been working together and he's been stealing from us.” Iggy began pacing around the room, his words coming out quick and jumbled, “We get to Jack’s place and I hear Terry joking with him about fuckin’ us over.”

“What're we talkin’ about here? A couple hundred dollars? That's what you're so messed up over?” Mickey chuckled and grabbed his pack of smokes off the coffee table. He nodded his head to Ian and offered him a cigarette, “Relax, it's okay.”

“It's not okay.” Iggy replied, still on edge. He moved to look out the window once again shaking his head.

“The fuck is wrong with you man? You're stressing me the fuck out. You high or somethin’? Jesus Christ Iggy, stop looking out the damn window like some fuckin’ crackhead.” It was normal for Iggy to act a little strange, but this was unusual even for him. It was only when the older Milkovich moved closer that Mickey could see the bruises and blood running down his brother's face.

“We...we were arguing and Terry was fucked up. We were beating the shit outta each other just like old times.” Iggy smiles, as if recalling a pleasant memory.

“You let that fucker beat the shit outta u? Where is he?” Mickey said, raising up from the floor and straightening his clothes. “Where's my fuckin’ gun Iggy?”

“Gone. Threw it in Lake Michigan.”

“Hold on a fuckin’ second,” Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose, “You threw my gun in Lake Michigan?”

“Take a walk outside with me,” Iggy gave Ian a look, “The kid fuckin’ stays here.”

“Yeah, okay.” Mickey grabbed his coat and mouthed an apology to Ian. He followed his brothers lead out the door. “Iggy, what's going on?”

Iggy popped the trunk of his father's car and Mickey's jaw dropped. Terry’s lifeless body was crammed into the tight space with one bullet lodged in the side of his cheek and another in his chest. It didn't bother Mickey to see Terry laying there, not even a little bit. In a sick twisted way, he was relieved, happy even. Mickey slammed his palm against the car closing the trunk.

“You did this?” Mickey ask, looking up at Iggy confused.

“I thought he was going to kill me. I had no choice Mick.”

“No judge is gonna believe it was self-defense! There's two fuckin’ bullets in him Ig. You're a lousy fuckin’ shot, who the fuck shoots a man in the cheek? You're fucked! What're we supposed to fuckin’ do now?” Mickey swiped a hand over his mouth and leaned against the car.

“Chop him up in pieces and throw him in the river?”

“You're fuckin’ serious? That's a horrible plan.”

Mickey looked up at the house, thankful that Ian was inside and completely unaware of the massive problem going on outside. So much for two days of peace and quiet. He wishes he could go back to fifteen minutes ago. Back to kissing Ian. He was going to get laid tonight and Terry had found a way to fuck that up for him too.

Before Mickey could react, police cars boxed them in; two coming in from the back and two coming up from the alley. Red and blue lights bathed the dark street with light and blaring sirens disturbed the quiet. Iggy takes off running behind the house and several policemen chase him down the alley in hot pursuit. Two police cars stop in front of Mickey and he sinks to his knees and places his hands behind his head.

_“On the ground! Face on the ground now!”_

Mickey bites his lip, closes his eyes, and lowers his body flat against the wet snow covered street.

A block away Ian hurdles over the fence and sprints through Back Of The Yards neighborhood. He manages to escape the cops without being seen. Iggy is not so lucky. After a brief chase he is tackled to the ground and shoved into a cop car next to Mickey.

Mickey later learns Terry’s car was full of coke and Iggy had also shot and killed Terry’s business partner Jack. The police had been surveying the Milkovich's and Jack Regal for months. They had pictures and documented deals made by both Mickey, Iggy, and the Regal twins. There are ten other people arrested and hauled to jail that night for their affiliation with Jack and Terry.

* * *

 Mickey makes the front page of the Chicago Tribune and they run his name through the dirt. He is facing a long list of charges and his public defender (hired by the state), gets the murder charge, and conspiracy to commit murder thrown out. _Thank god._ The only good thing Mickey had going for him was that this was his first offence and he hadn't ran from the cops. They set his trial date and set his bond unreasonably high. The attorney isn't hopeful; even with good behavior, Mickey would probably still end up serving at least three years behind bars.

The first week in was rough. The food was shit and the mat they gave him to sleep on provided little to no cushion against the cold steel bunk he slept on. His bunkie was a recovering junkie who babbled to himself at night.

His walls were back up, his feelings receded and all that was left in his heart was rage. He had all the time in the world to think now and it was fuckin’ depressing. His mind went over all the little details of his life from start to finish. Conversations he'd had with Mandy, moments he had spent with Ian; it all replayed in his head like a movie, bittersweet memories that made his heart ache. He lets a few tears fall, but buttons that shit up before daybreak. Prison is no place for feelings.

The only thing that brightness his spirits is when Sunday comes and the guard says he has a visitor. He is lead to a room with telephones and there's a thick pane of glass separating the inmates from their visitors. He walks to window number seven and holds his breath.

_There's his kid._

He sees Ian sitting there and Mickey can't help but look down at him and smile.

It's been almost a month since they've seen one another, and both men grab their phones off the hook and lift the receiver up to their ear.

“Hey,” Mickey breaths out, unable to peel his eyes away from Ian. He's wearing a heavy coat over layers and layers of clothes, and Mickey misses summer. He misses seeing Ian wear tank tops, t-shirts, and basketball shorts. The smallest glimpse of skin would have probably sent Mickey into a frenzy at this point.

“You doin’ okay?” Ian questioned sincerely.

“I'm wearing a fuckin’ bright orange onesie, I've seen better days Gallagher.” Mickey laughs, trying to break up the sadness eating away at his heart. Seeing Ian is fuckin’ wonderful, but he knows it's not going to last long. They have ten minutes and after that Ian would get to leave and Mickey would return to his cell. _How was he gonna get through three years without being able to touch him? And who was gonna touch Ian while Mickey was gone?_

“How long?”

“I don't know, three years?” Mickey moves the phone away for a moment and looks away. He's surprisingly emotional and doesn't want Ian, or the rest of the inmates to see this. Looking weak in jail was not something he was aiming for.

“I've been taking classes to get my GED, like you said. When you get out-” Ian places his palm against the cool glass and lowers his voice, “We can be together.”

Mickey lifts his hand up to the glass, placing it against Ian's. He wishes he could feel the heat from the other man's palm, but he feels nothing but the glass barrier separating them. So close, but so far away. He holds the phone in his shaky hand, unsure how to reply.

“You look good.” Mickey smiles, skimming his tongue across his bottom lip.

It had only been a month, but the kid looked older somehow. His face was fuller and more distinguished, freckles still dotted his cheeks but they had faded slightly. He had two day's worth of stubble against his chin and his hair was neatly trimmed against his neck and messy on top.

Mickey had missed the kid so fuckin’ much his heart hurt, but Ian wasn't so much of a kid anymore. He was growing into a man; a man in his prime, and Mickey feared Gallagher wouldn't be able to wait for him. It would have been selfish for Mickey to ask him, so he doesn't. He keeps his eyes on Ian's face trying to permanently etch this moment in his head for later.

“You look good too Mick.”

“So what's up with you? I wanna hear something good.”

“Fiona”s been helping me look for a job. I started working at McDonald's but, I hate it. You're lucky you can't smell me through the glass. Got off work this morning and Fiona drove me up.”

“Flipping burgers? That's what I like to hear.” Mickey gives him a cheeky smile and laughs.

“Yeah, laugh it up.” Ian chuckles.

“How's Fiona?” Mickey doesn't really care, he just wants to hear Ian talk.

“She's still pissed off, but she'll get over it. I left some details out about what happened. She doesn't know I was with you that night.”

There's a loud beep signaling visitation is over and Mickey groans.

“You gonna be okay while I'm in here?” Mickey says, watching as the other inmates start getting up from their chairs. Fuck it. “You gonna wait for me?”

“Yeah Mick, I'll wait.”

Mickey nods his head, hangs the phone up, and reluctantly gets up from his seat. He looks at the redhead once more before the guard yells for him to, “Hurry Up.” Mickey’s wrists are cuffed and the guard walks him back to his cell.

* * *

 A month later the attorney visits Mickey and gives him a plea bargain from the state. Twelve months, reduced to eight, with 375 days in home detention. It was the best possible outcome he could have asked for. He had five months of prison left and then he was free.

Iggy was charged with second degree murder and sentenced to thirty years.

* * *

 Mickey gets released on August twenty-first. Of all the people that could've picked him up it was Fiona who was there waiting for him. He was wearing the same bulky winter clothes he had worn when he got arrested, and the afternoon sun was hot against his back as he walked to the car. He climbs in the car and immediately grabs a smoke from Fiona's pack.

“Fuck, that's good.” He takes another hit from the cigarette and savors the nicotine.

“Nice to see you too.” Fiona puts the car in gear and drives away from the jail.

“Where's Ian?” Mickey asks, eager to see his best friend. Boyfriend?

“He's working. Figured we could make a stop so you could see him.”

“I could go for a fuckin’ Big Mac. Haven't had a decent meal in a fuckin’ year.”

“He didn't tell you did he? He doesn't work at McDonald's anymore. He's somewhere new.”

Mickey looks out the window as they drive through town and notices that everything looks so fuckin’ different. The Southside looks better, if possible and there's new expensive buildings in places where people used to live.

“Where the fuck are we? Is this shit real? What happened to Kenny’s house? Where's big Angie’s trailer?”

“They tore it all down. It's a whole new neighborhood now Mickey.”

“Where the fuck are we going? I got thirty minutes and then this bracelet on my ankle is gonna attract every cop in Chicago.”

“Not much longer, just up the road a bit.”

Fiona pulls into a driveway, in front of a house Mickey’s never seen before. There's four men repairing the shingles on top of the roof and a tall redhead is standing out in front of the yard shirtless, drinking a bottle of water. Mickey could have spotted that tight ass out from a crowd of people. He watched as Ian dumped the remaining water on his head and ran a set of freckled fingers through his red hair. Mickey bit his lip, focusing in on the water rolling down the muscular plains of Ian's back. The redhead had most definitely been eating his protein. He was standing there looking like the Greek god Adonis and Mickey couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't function.

“You gonna just sit there? Time's ticking remember?” Fiona pointed to Mickey’s ankle, reminding him of the ticking time bomb that he was attached to.

“Shit, right. Thanks.”

Mickey got out of the car and called out to Ian, “Aye, Firecrotch what's up man?”

Ian turned around and practically ran to Mickey. He circled his arms around Mickey’s waist and lifted his feet off the ground. “You're really here.” Ian repeats, over and over. He drops Mickey to his feet and leans in for a kiss.

The time they had spent apart had only fed the fire. Their mouths did what their bodies craved. Lips wet and sweet with a hint of salt, desperate tongues sucking and wiggling between tight places. It was beautiful and everything Mickey had thought about doing since he got locked up. He could spend forever inside Ian, both figuratively and physically.

Mickey had forgotten about the guys on the roof, that is until he hears whistling and cheering. He pulls out of the kiss and looks away, suddenly overwhelmed and embarrassed.

“Get it Gallagher!” A crewman cheers, clapping his hands together.

“They like to give me shit. So what do ya think? A lot better than McDonald's, am I right?” Ian pulls back and wipes sweat out of his eyes, “Let me take you out tonight.”

“House arrest.” Mickey points to his leg with a frown.

“Oh, shit I forgot. I'll be over right after work. I can pick up whatever you like baby. Anything you want.”

“Could really go for some pizza and beer.”

“Giordano's and PBR?” Ian questioned, with a smile.

“Fuckin’ A Gallagher, you remember.”

“Remember everything about you. The way you bite your lips when you get turned on. The way you smell," Ian leans forward dropping his voice so only Mickey can hear, “The way you taste. I'm gonna fuck you so good, never got a chance to. All I can fucking think about is you.” Ian leans forward, recnnecting their lips passionately. 

“Hey lovebirds, wrap it up. I gotta have him back home before a certain time Ian.” Fiona yelled from vehicle.

“Yeah, Yeah.” Mickey says, swatting his hand toward the car.

“I'll take a shower and be over when I'm done here. Round six.” Ian gives him a quick kiss on the lips and Mickey feels the anticipation boil inside his stomach.

“Aye, don't shower before you come over. I like seeing you like this. Covered in dirt and sweaty. It's sexy.” Mickey sucks his lip between his teeth and gives Ian a long look before walking back to the car. He has a cheeky smile that won't go away and Fiona teases him the whole way home. He's so happy to be out and to be able to touch his man again. 

The kid had gone from a skinny pot smoking punk, to a thick construction working man in a year's time. Ian was now a Southside made, rugged and strong bodied laborer. It was such a fuckin’ turn on and Mickey was sprung. That man was fuckin’ thunder and lightning, fire and ice, cake and fuckin’ icecream, the blood gushing through his veins. He was all of Mickey’s favorite things rolled up into one taunt rippled body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last. I've had so much fun writing this one.


	14. Dirty Boy

Mickey waits in the empty hospital room for an hour before Fiona shows up. He has never been more happy to see her. She immediately pulls him into a tight embrace, “It's gonna be okay,” She says before pulling back to look in his eyes. She's fighting back tears and he can see. He can see her chin tremble and shake as she puts on her best smile. She's learned to smile through the pain, a Gallagher characteristic Mickey wishes he could inherit. She moves her glove covered hands up to cradle his face, a motherly gesture she uses in hopes of calming his nerves. “They say anything yet?” 

He lets her hold him there for a moment before he jerks away and wipes his cheeks, “Fuck no. They won't tell me anything. I have a right to know what the fuck is going on!” He screams out, receiving looks from people moving outside the room.

“How about you go outside and have a smoke, huh? I'll go talk to the nurse and find out what's going on.”

“Good fuckin’ luck with that,” He says while pulling his hoodie over his head. He could go for a smoke. “If you find somethin’ out, come’n get me.” 

A wisp of wind curls around his cheeks as he blows a puff smoke into the evening air. The setting sun is at his back, casting a medley of colors against the tall hospital windows before him. He stares at his reflection through the glass; same ole’ pale skin and angry bloodshot eyes staring back at him. The thin sweater he's wearing provides little warmth from fall temperature. Once he's had enough, he flicks the cigarette into the street and makes his way back inside. 

When he gets back to the room, Fiona's perched on the end of the bed and Ian's sitting next to her. The redhead is dressed in his work clothes and his right arm is wrapped in a blue sling. Aside from a few cuts and bruises on his face everything looks normal. Mickey stands in the doorway, listening the two Gallagher’s talk

“Mick,” Ian says, flashing a huge smile. He tilts his head and reaches his uninjured arm out. 

“Hey baby.” Mickey says, walking toward the bed. He gives Fiona a confused look,“What'd the doc say?” Ian arm wraps around Mickey’s waist and hugs him tightly.

“He's pretty banged up. Got a couple broken ribs and a broken arm, but everything else is okay. They don't want him to return to work until the arm has healed.”

Ian burries his face into Mickey’s chest and breathes him in deep, “You're wearing my sweater.” He pulls back smiling, looking up at Mickey with fascination, “You're eyes are really fucking beautiful, and fuck, you smell wonderful.” 

Mickey laughs, “The fuck is wrong with you?” He teases before leaning down and capturing the man's lips. 

“They gave him a muscle relaxer and pain medicine. You'll have to get his prescriptions filled in the morning when the pharmacy opens.”

Mickey pulls out of the kiss, “This don't mean you're off the hook. I'm still pissed off. You scared the shit out of me! I should punch you!” 

“I'm fine really, this is nothing. ” Ian says standing up from the bed.

“Let's get you home and in bed.” 

Mickey helps Ian inside the house and leads him into the bedroom. He lays Ian down on the bed and begins undressing him. He starts with his boots, unlacing them and tossing them across the room. He frees Ian's legs from tight jeans and moves up to remove the sling from around the redheads neck. He feels the younger man's eyes on him, watching him closely. 

“The fuck you looking at?” Mickey asks, pulling Ian's shirt up and gently taking both of his arms out. He reaches out and ghosts his fingers softly over the fresh bruises marking Ian's side. He wants nothing more than to take his pain away, he wishes he was able to.

“You take care of me,” Ian says, wincing from the pain as Mickey begins repositioning his broken arm back inside the sling. 

“That's what I'm here for,” Mickey nods his head and places a pillow behind Ian's back to prop him up in bed.

“You hungry?”

“Starving, actually.” Ian says, watching as Mickey gets up from the bed. “Hey, wait, I'm sorry about today. You're not really mad at me right?” Ian’s forehead crinkles as he searches Mickey’s face. The medicine they gave him at the hospital makes him feel warm and the urge to sleep is heavy. 

“You almost gave me a fuckin’ heart attack but, I'm just glad you're okay.” Mickey leans up against the door frame and smiles.

“I fucked everything up. How are we gonna pay the bills?” Ian’s eyes shot open with worry.

Mickey walks back over to the bed, “Told you, I'm taking care of you. I got this under control.” He leans forward and kisses Ian's hair, “Take a nap and stop worrying.” 

Ian did as he was told and Mickey went into the kitchen to prepare their dinner. 

Mickey had everything under control. Everything was fuckin’ peachy.

\-------------

Three weeks later 

It was three o'clock in the afternoon and Ian was impatiently waiting for Mickey to come home. Over the last few weeks he had binge watched an entire seven season's of his favorite tv show; fixed the bathroom sink, organized Mickey’s knife collection and cleaned the whole house. He was running out of things to occupy his time while his arm and ribs healed. To say he was bored was an understatement. 

Mickey had taken his spot on Mandy's crew and it should have made him really happy. Actually, Ian was pretty fucking happy; his boyfriend had never been more confident, and seeing Mickey happy made him happy. The only thing Ian hated about the deal was that he was stuck in this house. 

The past few weeks hadn't been kind to his sex life either, another reason why Ian's ego had taken a recent nosedive. Whenever Mickey came home from work he was too tired for sex and Ian had resorted to jacking off in the shower. His left hand was sufficient, but it was no match for his boyfriends perfect ass. 

When Mickey wasn't around Ian practiced using his right hand, stretching it out and moving it around. The older man was adamant about Ian keeping the sling on and he should listen, but he doesn't. He needed to find a way to prove to Mickey that he was better. He didn't want to wait another three weeks to return to work. 

Mickey walks into the house holding a handful of mail and starts shoving off his work boots. 

“How was work?” Ian ask, switching the TV off to devote his full attention to Mickey. He took a moment to look over his sexy boyfriend. Mickey’s dark hair was damp from sweat and slicked back. The tank top he was wearing hugged against his chest in all the right places and Ian could faintly make out the man's hardened nipples poking at the thin material.

“Fuckin’ hot out there. Work was okay.” Mickey smiled, feeling the redhead’s eyes on him. “How's the arm?”

“Good. Better. Great.” Ian said, pulling his arm out from the sling. 

Mickey dropped the mail on the coffee table and narrowed his eyes, “You gotta leave that shit on for another three weeks. C’mon man.”

“I'm fine. It's better, see?” Ian said, clenching his fist and rotating his arm in a circle.

“You're fuckin’ stubbon as hell.”

“So, I'm gonna call and tell Mandy I'll be at work on Monday.”

“Nah, Ian, you got three more weeks. You need to rest.” Mickey shook his head and peeling his tank top over his head. 

“I'm fine, Mick.” Ian said pointedly getting up from the couch and approaching Mickey slowly. When Mickey ignored him he continued, “You look stressed out.” He began palming at the man's shoulders, rubbing deep circles into the tight muscles along his neck.

“Been dealing with stupid shit all day,” Mickey let out a pleased hum as Ian's hands began manipulating his sore shoulders, “Feels really fuckin’ good.” He closed his eyes and let out a sigh as Ian's hands slowly cascaded down his body. 

“I'll show you. ” Ian insists, unbuckling the man's jeans with nimble fingers. 

“Just wait a fuckin’ second, okay? Can I take a shower first?” Mickey chuckles, his smile growing wider as he watches Ian eagerly mess with his jeans. The man was always so hungry for him and he loved it.

“Been too long. Don't wanna wait.” Ian leans in close and licks at the man's throat, gaining a well deserved moan from Mickey in response.

“Just-I can't fuckin’ think when you're doing that.” Mickey complains, but bends his neck so Ian can bite and suck at his salty skin. 

“Arm's good. Cock is good.” He palms Mickey through his boxers and grabs onto his ass cheek with his right hand. “Fuck, you got the best ass,” Ian emits an animalistic growl against his neck and Mickey’s whole body goes slack in his arms.

The moments after that are a blur for Mickey. Like usual, they both end up in bed naked, their sweaty chests pressed tightly together as they kiss wildly. 

Ian manhandles him, and Mickey loves it. He loves how his legs are held up as Ian fucks him nice and deep. The way the veins in the redhead’s biceps pop out as he holds Mickey’s hips down and fuckin’ dominates him. But the one thing he loves the most, is seeing his sexy hunk of a boyfriend get off. 

“Told you everything's good.” Ian said with a gasp as he rolled off Mickey. He laid on his back, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal.

“Did you just pull some fuckin’ dick mind trick on me? You lay the dick and I'm supposed to just agree with you now?” 

“Well, I mean, it worked right?” Ian says lifting an eyebrow in question.

“There's no convincing you to stay home is there?” Mickey gives up, grabbing a smoke from his pack and placing it between his lips to light. Arguing with the man was useless.

“Nope.” Ian shook his head, reaching for the cigarette between Mickey’s fingers. “Guess I'm gonna have to compete with Roger over who gets to be your work boyfriend now.”

“Oh, fuck off Gallagher.” Mickey moves his hands down Ian's ticklish stomach and watches the redhead's back bow off the bed. “I'm sure we can make room for you.” 

“Oh yeah,” Ian laughs sarcastically and begins kissing down Mickey’s chest. “As your Forman I'm gonna demand alot outta you.” Ian smiles when he feels a set of fingers thread through his hair tightly and continues, “You're gonna have to work hard for me.” Mickey hums as Ian continues lower, his hot mouth sucking at the skin on his lower stomach. “And I'm gonna be really hard on you Mickey. _Really hard._ ”

“Fuck baby.” Mickey’s legs shake as Ian’s tongue circles around his already sensitive head. “If you know what's fuckin’ best you'll cut me some slack. I'm still learning.” Mickey bit back a moan, already feeling himself harden from Ian's words. He smashes the half smoked cigerett into the bedside astray and watches the red head move down his body.

“You can be my apprentice, if you're a good _boy_ Mick.” 

“You're fuckin’ dirty Gallagher, you know that?” All Mickey hears is mumbles as Ian begins bobbing up and down on his swollen member. 

Mickey couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! Yay!


End file.
